Empire State of Lost Minds
by Ianuaria
Summary: Set after 8.02. Addison,Derek,Meredith,multiple Shepherds and other characters. Secrets from seven years ago,revelations,realisations , regret and drama in general. I swear I'll put up a better summary when it won't be a spoiler.
1. Chapter 1

**_A new Addek story; not sure if it will fly, but I'm putting it out anyway._**

 ** _Tell me if you like it and want me to keep going!_**

 ** _Set sometime in season eight, after 8.02,because I never really believed that social worker would have returning Zola to an unstable home where there was absolutely no communication, especially after what Addison goes through on PP with her social worker._**

 ** _But then again,Shonda's always had it out for Addison._**

 ** _I'm not revealing any pairings yet,though I promise it will be interesting._**

 ** _Anyway,enjoy!_**

* * *

The noise, that's what gets to him sometimes.

It's weird,seeing as he was born and raised in blue-collar Brooklyn, but it does, the inane hospital chatter, the bleep of monitors,car horns, music, rain - always the rain, here- on the windows.

Maybe that's when his life fell apart ,he chose the quietude of this land, chose to wrap himself in woods and lake and forget the rest of the world. It's always quiet there.

Here, in Meredith's house- well,there's just him there right now. For now. It's usually not that way; he's only half-teasing when he calls it a frat house.

It was just them for a while, the beginnings of a family.

But that- well,that fell apart too, and now it's slowly reverting, strays scurrying in and out.

Maybe he's only capable of going ten years in one place. One relationship. Seven ,here. Maybe he's getting old,losing his grip.

But it's quiet,tonight. Just the creaks of an old house settling, the occasional flurry of footsteps over floorboards overhead, the tap of branches against the window.

It's quiet,and when it's quiet, he thinks.

About the renewed Alzheimers trial,the elusive target protein that's so close he can taste success but evades him at each turn.

The baby who might have been theirs,but wasn't.

The state of his marriage.

" Derek?"

"Not now,Meredith."

He can't do it right now. He can't look at her.

 _Let's do it. Let's adopt this baby._

"It's not me," she snaps."Liz is on the phone."

Liz?

"What do you want me to tell her?"

"Give me the phone." he sighs."

Only so many phone calls can be ignored before it warrants the descent of a sister .Or two.

"Hey Liz."

"How soon can you get here?"

"I'm bu-"

"I always are. It's - its Mom, Derek, How soon can you be here?"

"I'll come."

..

"You don't have to." he's throwing clothes haphazardly into a suitcase, mind racing.

"I know, but I want to."she says patiently.

The longest she's spent with his a collective ten minutes with Nancy-

 _"I know you didn't think I was the wife, seeing as you already ran her off."_

\- and a meagre hour with his mother.

 _"She sees things in shades of need a little of that."_

"I want to." she says quietly.

"I'm leaving in ten minutes." he says shortly,tossing the few unwrapped presents he's bought into the suitcase.

 **..**

"I hate coach."he mumbles, legs burning and back aching from the small feet hammering into his seat.

He looks over the back into merry dark eyes.

"Hey there. What's your name?"

A shy grin, a little head ducking into a shoulder.

"Sorry." His mother apologises; she's young, the same dark eyes as her son.

"He's just excited."she whispers.

"It's okay."

"This is why I hate kids."Meredith mutters,snuggling back into him.

 **..**

It's different here now, the floors are still the same but none of the faces are familiar.

Well, not none.

A few curious eyes follow them as they head for the surgical waiting room, the backdrop to his earliest triumphs and failures.

"Derek!"

"Nance. How is she?"

"Better. But-" she's white, shaking her head.

"Long time,little brother."Liz says tonelessly.

He ignores it; now is not the time.

"Lizzie."

"Don't."

"I'm-"

"Save it, Derek, I'll deal with you later."

They sit in silence,Meredith on his right,his sisters on his left, clutching their husband's hands, hands that pat his back and murmur hello like they just met last Sunday.

"Is there anything I can get y-" Meredith begins.

"No." Liz says, harsh.

"Okay." she settles back down.

"Where's Kate?" she tries again.

 _For the love of god..._

"Kath." Nancy says almost absentmindedly.

"Right ."

There's a stiff pause, and Liz exchanges glances with Nancy.

"Tibet."

"What?"

"In a monastery, finding her inner god-knows-what." Nancy says, mouth pursed, and suddenly they're all laughing.

"What happened to shrinking people?" he gasps, tears running down his face.

"She's a faith healer now," Liz howls." She believes in spiritual balance to heal the soul."

"Mom's face." Nancy gasps,clutching his arm.

"She asked if it includes a spa."Liz giggles,hysterical.

"I think it's nice."Meredith says tentatively,and the laughter stops.

"It's not," Nancy snaps."I miss her."

Liz leaps to her feet with agility betraying her age."Guys."

"Shepherd?" a nurse is calling out, searching the waiting room,and they follow her into a more private area where a bleary eyed surgeon is already waiting for them, twisting a cap in his fingers like he's done so many times. The name on his tag says _Forster._

"Your mother should be fine-"

He feels suddenly weak with relief - or maybe the guilt,leaving his chest - but either way he can barely hear anything the doctor says next over the rush of blood in his ears.

 _She's fine._

"-able to rod it, she should regain a fair degree of mobility with intensive physical therapy..."

He sags against the wall as the team of doctors leave, and it doesn't escape Nancy's notice.

"If he's this wiped just hearing about Mom, maybe we should wait ."

 _For what?_

"For what?" Meredith voices his thoughts.

"You'll see." Nancy says uncomfortably,avoiding her sister's gaze. "Liz, you know we have to wait til she gets here anyway,what difference will it make?"

"What if it were _you_ , Nance, and your-" she breaks off abruptly,staring at Meredith.

"Are you two going to stop with the crazy and tell me what's going on?" he demands.

"No." Nancy says at the same time Liz says _yes_ ,and they settle for glaring in opposite directions.

"Well,they won't be letting too many people into the ICU to see her tonight,and there's school in the morning,so-" Jeff says hesitantly,laying a hand on Nancy's shoulder, and she nods.

And then it's just them left in the corridor, him and Nancy and Liz and Meredith, silence settling heavy as he tries to reconcile the shrunken face beyond the window with the image of his mother he carries in his head - strong,bright,full of life.

He hasn't seen her in four years,and he suddenly feels each lost minute tugging at his heart.

"What were you talking about earlier? About telling me something?" he prompts,hoping for a distraction.

"We're waiting." Liz says wearily. "Not that I think we should but we are."

"For what?" he asks,not entirely sure he wants to know.

"Oh, Addison,thank _god_."

 _She looks exactly the same._

This is his first thought as he sees her walking towards them.

"How is she."

"Addie,sit, calm down."

"Nancy, _how is she_?"

 _Bit of an overreaction considering she isn't even your mother in law anymore_ is his second.

"She's fine,out of surgery, Mackler said she's going to be just fine." Liz says,soothing, holding her by the arms.

 _Mackler?_

"I need to see her, please."she says,her voice breathy,the way he knows it gets when she's desperately fighting tears.

"She's still under, it'll be a while."

"Thank you." she whispers,swiping almost angrily at the offending moisture on her cheeks."For being here when I couldn't."

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this."Nancy says,eyeing him sideways." It's not your fault,it could have happened anywhere, to anyone."

"God,Nancy, can you imagine if...if something _had_ happened,and I wasn't here-" she breaks off, staring at him in dawning horror.

"It didn't." Nancy is murmuring into her crimson waves, but she doesn't seem to have heard.

"Why is _he_ here?"

"Why are _you_ here?" he asks; not maliciously. Just curiously.

"Did you -" she turns to look at Liz, who throws her hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, Addie, so so sorry, I know you didn't want to do it this way, but -"

" _Liz_." her voice cracks with betrayal.

"I'm _sorry_. But think, Addie,of it was the other way round, wouldn't you want to know?"

 _I doubt she gives a damn about Bizzy, not like this, anyway._

It's puzzling; Addison always loved his mother,even if the feeling hadn't been reciprocated in equal measure.

To see her react this way,to what as far as he knows is a fractured femur and a possible concussion, is a bit unrealistic and frankly,annoying, because she has no relation to his mother anymore. No right, to react this way.

"I would, Liz, I would, but you could have asked me, or-" she cuts , drawing a hand across her mouth,eyes darting.

This is too much.

"Why would she ask _you_ before she called me? I mean-"

"Derek,now is not the time." Nancy intercedes; he wonders if anyone is going to able to complete a sentence tonight.

"Where?" Addison asks.

"720."

And she' ,the familiar click of heels on linoleum, a faint waft of familiar perfume left in her wake.

His mother is in 426.

As far as he remembers, seventh floor here is- Peds.

And it all fades away, their voices, the hum of the fluorescent lighting, the sigh of the air conditioning, the click of Addison's heels as she strides away, just the rush of blood in his ears and the almost-painful throb of his heart in his chest.

* * *

 ** _So?_**

 ** _Please review!_**


	2. one riotous day

_**Holy crap, you blow me away with your reviews!**_ _ **Thanks soon much for your enthusiasm. In return , here is a chapter.**_ _ **To be specific, this is an Addek story as in its about Addison and Derek. Pairings are MerDer for now. You'll find out the rest.**_

* * *

 _This is the debt I pay_

 _Just for one riotous day,_

 _Years of regret and grief,_

 _Sorrow without relief._

* * *

 _Peds._

What- who - can be in Peds?

He knows he has no right to ask, to be concerned. What Addison made of her life after the divorce is none of his business,and he has never made it so.

But still. Why would his family be so worried about this child,if there even is one to begin with?

The calamitous end of their marriage had come as no surprise to any of them,but he hardly thinks they would be ... friends,with Addison.

In the end , it had been she who left him, a signed set of papers and a set of rings on the kitchen table in the trailer, an empty hotel room, a replacement in the NICU and six years of radio silence.

Well, not total silence. He knows she was in LA , with Sam and Naomi - another casualty of the divorce,he hasn't spoken to them since before he left New York.

She must have moved here at some point. Back to Mark.

Mark. _His_ best friend to start with, the architect of the end of the Shepherds. His brother.

He hasn't seen him since that long-ago night their lives imploded.

He hasn't seen Nancy since her fleeting Seattle visit, Liz since so long he doesn't want to think about it. With Amy,it's been too long to count.

His mother, since she came to Seattle and gave him that ring, that stupid ring, that Addison was never right for and he's not sure Meredith was ready for.

He made a new life in Seattle, purged of the memories and the ghosts of his old one; the night he met Meredith he really was just a _guy in a bar_ , he wasn't Derek Shepherd, he wasn't the top neurosurgeon on the East Coast, he wasn't married to Addison, he didn't care that he'd left behind three sisters and a mother and a grave in New York.

And it felt good. Like he was drowning, and then he came up for fresh air. God,what a cliché.

But it felt good, and he wanted, _needed_ , to feel good,after what he'd walked in on.

So he let it go on the way it was, he left his Manhattan persona behind and became what Addison so eloquently described as a _wood chopping flannel wearing fisherman._

Now,thrust back into the frantic pace of the city he's always loved, he feels it all coming back, guilt and regret washing over him.

They were interns here together,and then residents, then fellows,then attendings. The three of them. Sometimes when he sees Meredith with Cristina and Alex, he'll remember how they used to be, and he'll feel a little twinge of sadness. But only a little.

Now that he's here,it's unavoidable, every corner he turns, every door he opens, every familiar face, there's a story behind it.

His mother was in OR 2,where Addison got accidentally electrocuted their first year of residency after scrubbing in on an abdominal hysterectomy; he remembers taking her home after, suppressing laughter, Mark not bothering to, calling her Sparky for months afterwards.

The waiting room is where he told so many people that he had - or hadn't- been good enough to save their loved ones. OR 7 is where he did his first surgery and lost his first patient. The third floor west corner is his old office, someone else's now. The table at the back of the cafeteria, still rickety, but occupied by different interns now. The bus stop outside where they used to struggle to stay awake long enough to collapse into seats. The locker rooms, the on call rooms, the closets, one of them tugging the other in, breathless and laughing, so young. Young enough to believe it would always be that way.

He's older now. Cynical. He knows that soon enough friendship turns into betrayal,the laughter fades away, that sometimes its not enough to be the best, and suddenly one day they're no longer young enough and no longer stupid enough to believe in _always_.

"She's awake." a nurse tells them.

He's dimly aware of his sisters moving around him,Meredith's hand clamped around his like a vise, of being pulled forward into a tiny brightly lit glass cubicle, of his mother lying small and grey in a bed that swallows her.

"Derek?" his mother sounds surprised, and it hurts. Like it should.

"Hey,Mom." he works his face into a smile, running a subtle hand over her skull, looking closely into her eyes as he hugs her .

"Girls,what did you tell him to get him out here?" she laughs hoarsely."My word, you look older."

She touches the new strands of gray in his hair, looking a little sad. "I expect you'll say the same for me."

"No,you're as young as ever ." he manages, wondering when his mother was replaced by this diminutive white haired woman.

"What happened?" she asks suddenly,looking to her daughters. "We were in the car, and then -oh. Oh, god, is -"

"Ma." Nancy says sharply."You need to calm down."

"But-"

"Well talk later."

"I _need to know_. Elizabeth,tell me she's all ri-"

Nancy digs sharp nails into his arm as she yanks him into the hallway.

He shakes her off easily; gone are the days when she was taller or stronger.

"Tell me what the hell is going on?" he asks, ignoring her annoyed glare.

"No."

"Who is she talking about? Was there someone in the car with Mom? And why in the world is Addison here?"

"She has more right to be here than you do." Nancy hisses, inches from his face. "And you'll stay here,with Mom. I have something I need to do. ."

She strides past Meredith, who emerges from his mother's room, confusion etched on her face.

"Liz asked me to get ice ch...Derek?"

She looks slightly worried, standing on tiptoe to peer at him. "Derek, earth to Derek."

"What?" he startles, pulling away slightly.

She looks a little hurt."You spaced out. Mom's going to be fine,Derek, don't worry."

"I'm not," he smiles down at her. "Let's go get that ice."

He's learned the hard way that it's better to leave Addison to her own devices.

"Oh,good, you're back." his mother says brightly when they return with a cupful of melting ice. "And Meredith, how nice to see you. How was the wedding?"

 _Oh god._

"Ma," he says gently, handing her the ice. "It wasn't a real wedding,you know that."

"I know, I know. You went to City Hall. But a weddings' a wedding, Derek,you could at least have told me. You know, a phone call, or something. _Hey Mom I got married_ would have been enough."

"I'm sorry."Meredith says sincerely."I should have thought of it, but I'm not really good with the whole family thing."

"Oh." Carolyn says curiously, staring at her.

"Mom, you need to rest. You can interrogate us in the morning, I promise." he tucks the covers around her shoulders, hoping the medication might have made her mmore pliant than before.

"And you'll still be here? In the morning?"

"Of course." he replies.

"Derek? What happened? Was I in an accident? Is - oh my god . Is-"

"Mom!" Nancy says loudly. "You were in an accident-"

Someone drags hI'm out of the room, Meredith in his wake.

"It's common,after surgery..." Jeff is saying soothingly, but all he can think about us the second person who appears to have been in the car, this person they won't talk about.

And Addison's here, and she's worried.

What is going on?

* * *

He's woken from his brief nap by blinding sunlight in his face and Liz's voice in his ear.

"Okay,guys, I'm leaving. I have patients backed up into next week and the kids will be home soon, so ... Derek, you _are_ staying, right?"

Liz freezes halfway through forcing the zipper on her handbag closed, and he has a sudden memory of Meredith doing the same, balancing Zola on one hip as she crammed toys and snacks and clothes into her seemingly bottomless bag.

 _Zola_.

She's probably on her second or even third foster family by now, his Zola, who loves grapes but not grape jelly and the Clash and sleeps on her right side with her left thumb in her mouth.

He wonders if her new parents know this,if they know they have to cut her food up for her and the right ointment for her incision site and what to watch for if her shunt gets blocked and...

"Derek," Liz is snapping her fingers in his face."How long are you here?"

"As long as she needs me to be." he jerks his head towards the room. "I'll call Richard now, let him know."

She pauses, disbelieving. "Sure you can manage that?"

"Why not? She's my mother." he replies, stung.

"Well,it's not like you've really managed to be around for much of anything the last eight years."she says acerbically.

 _Touche_.

"Sorry."he says,humbled.

She softens a little. "Derek, I-"

"Liz. Lizzie, could you pick up Josh too? Please?" Nancy says brightly as she swings around the doorway,sending him thirty years back to when he had to share a room with her.

"Yeah." Liz says slowly, collecting herself. "I can. But it has to be today,Nancy, or I'll do it my way."

"Whatever." Nancy flops into a chair next to him,scuffing her foot into the worn carpeting.

He has, at this point,given up asking. A night spent in the cramped waiting room and the uncertainty that has been eating at him since they arrived ten hours ago has left him exhausted and cranky, and he's not sure he even wants to know what they're hiding - in his experience, the things that Addison hides are usually explosive.

He does not want _explosive_ , right now, what he wants is to go back to Seattle and go back to his OR and lose himself in the adrenaline rush of surgery until he doesn't have to think about any of it.

He fingers his blackberry nervously, torn between asking Richard for time off and begging him for a surgery that will necessitate his departure from here.

"Where's Meredith?"

"Finding an extra pillow." he yawns; his mother has been ... demanding. Pillows,ice chips,the air conditioning too high or too low, the pain meds aren't working, then they're too high and making her fuzzy, the blankets are scratchy.

She's had him and Meredith running back and forth from the nurses station all night , and it doesn't help that he suspects the charge nurse- a dominating curly haired woman by the name of Marian - may have recognised him, because he's heard his and Addison's name mentioned at least twice in the hallways.

"Where's Addison?"

"About that..." Nancy clears her throat. "She wants to speak to you."

 _Funny she didn't feel that way six years ago._

"What about?" he asks listlessly, peering down the hall to see if Meredith has managed to find another flat pillow for his mother to complain about.

"I'll let her tell you."

His eyes snap back to his sister. " Nancy, I don't have the time to be playing games with Addison; I was done with that years ago. Just spill, whatever it is,and if I need to talk to her, I will."

" But that's just it,Derek, don't you see? That's your problem. Sometimes it not about what _you_ need. You've never understood that, have you."

And now here he is, in a cheery yellow hallway up on seven north, wondering why anyone would think it was a good idea to paint bug-eyed zoo animals on the walls; he has the distinctly creepy feeling of being followed as he looks for room 720.

"Excuse me, can you-" he stops short when he sees who he's accosted. " _Weiss_?"

"Hey,Derek. How's Carolyn?" he says. He sounds unsurprised to see him, even though it's been... six years.

Six years since Savvy's surgery. Six years since she decided to effectively end her chances of becoming a mother.

What is Weiss doing on Peds?

" She's fine... Weiss, man, what are you doing here? Savvy here too?"

 _How does he even know what happened?_

As far as he knows, Savvy was Addison's friend first, they were college flatmates, and she got custody of Savvy and by extension, Weiss, in the divorce. He hasn't spoken to either of them since.

"Nah,she headed home earlier, she was here all night...what did you say you were up here for?" he asks forcedly,gesturing at their surroundings.

 _But I didn't say._

"Nancy told me that Addison wanted to say something to me,thought I'd get it over with."

It's perfectly reasonable, he thinks, that Addison would ask to see him here; it's her floor,her territory.

Passive-Aggressiva, if you will. He remembers putting a post - it to that effect on the doors of her NICU here once; it had been a running joke for months with the staff.

"Don't be like that."Weiss reprimands halfheartedly. "You should-"

"Weiss, the time to decide what I should and shouldn't do with Addison is long gone. Did you stop by to see Mom?"

"No, I was actually just on my way down there."

"I'll be down in a minute." he promises; this won't take long.

"Hm."

He's already walking away, mind racing, when Weiss calls after him.

"Just hear it out, okay?" and then he's gone, leaving Derek alone with his reeling thoughts.

 _Savvy was here all night and now Weiss too,but they can't possibly have children unless they adopted and I'm pretty sure I'd have heard about it,from Weiss at least._ _The girls are acting all cagy and whispering and no one's finishing a single sentence, Mom hasn't let us sit still for a second since we got here._ _Addison wants to see him._

He wonders if the sleep deprivation has finally gotten to him, and he's now hallucinating, because it's the only plausible explanation for what is going on.

Room 720 turns out to be one of the private ones, a fuzzy TV and an extra window with an appreciable view of the East River.

He knows this from memory, because Addison is standing outside it, her body draped across the doorframe, as if she's actually trying to stop him from entering.

She still in the black trousers and crumpled blouse from yesterday, her heels high and her eyes on the floor.

When she looks up he's assailed by the ocean blue depths of her eyes; even ringed in plum shades of tiredness, they're beautiful.

He used to be good at this, the game of her emotions, gauging her moods from the set of her jaw, the tone of her voice, the way she crossed her legs. Now, when he looks into her eyes, it's like looking into unfamiliar waters, he can't gauge the depth, the temperature. The safety, of taking the plunge.

"You came." she sounds relieved.

"You summoned. It's a habit I can't seem to break." he says, perversely pleased at the slight flush spreading over her cheekbones.

"We should-" she gestures vaguely towards an empty family room, still not budging from her post in the doorway.

"Nancy said you wanted to tell me something." he leans against the wall opposite, eager to have it over with.

"Not here. Please." she asks, and this docile behaviour shocks him into agreeing.

She follows him into the little room, closing the door behind them.

"So?" he turns to her, and she crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

No rings, he notices.

"There's something I need to tell you." she begins, tracing the industrial pattern of the carpet with a toe of the foot she's slipped out of its leather pump.

"Clearly."

She looks up at him from her chair, eyes unreadable. " This is... hard for me, Derek, I need you to understand that."

"I'm done, Addison, with trying to understand you. I don't have to anymore, and back when I actually did, it was hard enough, so please, just say it."

She breathes deeply,lips slightly parted, eyes searching his, in her classic I'm -about -to -drop-a-bomb posture, and then- "Are you and Meredith married? Legally?"

"Yes. Although what that has to do with anything,I have no idea."

" You're happy, now." It's a statement.

"Yes."

"You're settled? In Seattle?"

" _Yes._ Addison, -"

"Hear me out." she holds up a palm and he takes the opportunity to note again that there are no rings.

"Do you - did you ever -want kids?" she asks,almost a whisper, eerily prescient of his current state of mind.

A cold feeling begins to creep over him,rooting him to the spot,staring at the woman before him. Could she have...no.

She might be Satan, she might be an adulterous bitch, but she would never- would she?

He _is_ legally married to Meredith, he _is_ happy now. Well,was, until about last week, but mostly, yes.

And they are settled in Seattle, he's drawn up blueprints,they've broken ground,all they're waiting for is the go-ahead.

And he does want kids. He always has, but it never happened with Addison, and now, he's not sure if Meredith's even ready.

But she will be. Someday.

So all of the answers he gave are the truth. Right?

"Addison,are we playing twenty questions? "

"No,I'm done." she says. "You didn't answer the last question, and I'm done."

She getting up now, automatically smoothing her clothes, brushing a hand across her cheek but of course she isn't crying, far be it from Addison Forbes Montgomery -whatever-she-is-these-days to cry in public.

"Add-"

"Bye, Derek. "

"Weren't you supposed to tell me something?"

She laughs,short and bitter. "When do I do the things I'm supposed to?"

She looks smaller,somehow, tired,standing there in the door with her back to him,her face turned in profile. It makes him soften a little.

"No, you never were too good with that."he chuckles. "It was nice,seeing you."

Eleven years of marriage, fifteen years of knowing this woman, and this is what's left to say.

 _Nice seeing you._

"Likewise."she says,her voice thick, and he takes a step towards her, screaming silently at himself to get the hell away.

Vulnerable Addison is his ...kryptonite. She always so together, self sufficient, independent, that for the greater part of their relationship he felt ancillary,like she didn't need him. Not the way he needed her.

So when she falls apart,when she cries, when she lets the walls crumble, he's never been able to resist being able to hold her unresisted, stroke her hair,soothe her. Feel needed. Maybe Meredith was right. Maybe he is just an arrogant god complex surgeon.

But he knows Addison, she doesn't break down in hospital waiting rooms, especially not the ones where she works. Whatever this is, it's something big, and if it's enough to crush Addison, he's not sure he can stand to hear it.

 _Did you ever want kids_?

He's pushing scenario after unlikely scenario from his mind, rejecting each because Addison wouldn't _do_ that.

No matter how brutal their divorce had been, she wouldn't have.

And it's not something she could have hidden is it? Someone would have told him. His mother, at least, she would have told him.

He's so close to her now he could reach out , if he wanted, and touch her shoulder, brush limp strands from her face, give her the comfort she needs.

They stand like that for a while,breathing in tandem, her body tense and coiled like she's about to run, his rigid with fear as he gathers every scrap of courage he has to ask the question that hangs in the space between them.

His phone buzzes against his hip and he flips it open as a welcome distraction, stepping past Addison into the hallway, breaking the moment.

"Derek, we need to leave."

"Wh- Meredith. I just told Richard I was taking the week off, I cancelled all our surgeries. Why do we need to leave?"

"Derek, please , just... Alex. He swung something with the judge, told her something about the drug trial, that I'm not actually a cold unfeeling bitch or something and... we have a chance, Derek, we have a chance with Zola, we need to leave _right_ now."

* * *

 ** _Thoughts? I'd love to hear them!_**

 ** _Poem : The Debt, Paul Laurence Dunbar._** ** _Please review! It makes me faster._**


	3. never such innocence

**_Never such innocence,_**

 ** _Never before or since,_**

 ** _as changed itself to past._**

* * *

There are moments in his life, that he can pinpoint as the moments that defined him. Changed him. For the better, and for the worse.

The day his father died. It's the reason he's responsible, take-charge. A leader. It wasn't his choice, it was a necessity.

The day he got into med school. It made him confident, in himself. He believed he could do anything, be anything.

The day he met Addison. It made him realise not everything was in his control. Sometimes things happen before you know it. You fall in love with someone you've just met , and it can change your life completely.

The day they married. It made him believe in forever.

The day it all ended. It made him stop beleiving in forever.

The day he met Meredith. It taught him about second chances.

The day he saw Zola. It made him want to be a better person, for her.

He has a premonition that this is going to be one of those days.

"Derek? Derek!" Meredith's tinny voice is still issuing from the phone as he composes himself enough to form a coherent answer.

"Book the flight as soon as you can."

"You're leaving." Addison observes.

"Yeah,something with Zo-" he realises she has no idea about his life now, just like he has no idea about hers. "Addison,I'm sorry, but you're going to have to tell me right now. Please. I have an idea, of what it might be, but I know...I know you wouldn't keep something like this from me."

 _Would you?_

The old Addison,the one he knew and loved; she wouldn't have.

This new Addison,standing in front of him hard-eyed and silent? Maybe.

"Like this?" she asks slowly, eyes glittering. "What exactly do you mean by _like this_."

"I- shit." his phone is ringing again.

"Tell me, Derek." Always impatient,always demanding.

"Give me a _minute_."he snaps,and she turns away. "What is it,Meredith?"

"Nothing," she sounds offended by his tone."The flight's in two hours,thought you'd want to ,could you get down here please? She's driving me _crazy..."_

He puts it on vibrate this time and shoves it in his pocket. "Addison?"

"Don't you need to leave?"

"You don't plan to make this easy,do you?" he says drily, settling into a chair and preparing to have his heart blown to pieces. "Shoot."

And he does have his heart blown to pieces,but not by the person he expects, and now by the news he expects.

There's a commotion in the hallway, a squeaky voiced nurse yelling _you can't go in there_ and Addison's eyes widen, she slams out of the room, the door swinging shut behind her, and it muffles the voices outside, but he's pretty sure it's Addison and a man, and the nurse who was yelling earlier.

He opens the door, wishing immediately that he hadn't.

Seeing them together, so close, it's like that night all over again, and he feels familiar rage pounding through his veins.

"You called him." Mark sounds... defeated.

"I didn't, I swear I didn't. He came for Carolyn."

"You told him?" Mark asks,his fingers wrapped tight around her arms.

"No."she whispers,and the look that passes between them is tacit.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asks Mark, annoyed; why does he always have to turn up where he's most unwelcome and unneeded?

"Addison, find a pair and strap them on. Get it over with. There's no excuses this time." Mark says flatly,turning away and pushing through the doors Addison was guarding when he arrived.

"Addison?"

She's facing the doors Mark has vanished through, breathing hard, hands on her hips.

" _Tell_ me,Addison, just tell me."

She whips around, eyes glittering strangely.

Fine. You have a daughter."

* * *

McDreamy, her foot.

He's still in New York, being nondreamy, while she's here in midair, circling over Sea-Tac, wondering what exactly Alex did to the judge to get him to review the case.

They went back and forth and in circles about this, the adoption. It was his idea, and she warmed to it slowly, mostly because Zola is, well,irresistible.

But it was his idea, and now he couldn't even be bothered to come play happy couples with her for the judge's benefit.

Carolyn would have been fine,she reasons, she had the Sisters Shepherd to take care of her. Not to mention Addison.

It's weird, right, that seeing Addison again should send her right back to her insecure _pick me choose me love me_ intern self?

It shouldn't. She's a resident now, a good one at that, she's got the guy. They're married, for pete's sake,legally this time. They're adopting a freaking baby. They're building a McHouse.

And still, seeing Addison-as leggy and fabulous as ever- makes her feel like things are shifting. Sliding, slipping away.

He never came back from his stupid errand, just told her to book tickets and never showed. She boarded without him, hoping he'd show,but he didn't.

And now she's here,alone, about to be a mother.

"Circle any longer and we'll run out of fuel and drop right outta the sky." the man sitting beside her grumbles. "Boom."

"Dude, where's Shepherd?" Alex grunts, hefting her bag.

"Still in New York. With Mom."

"You're calling her _Mom_?"

"They all do!" she says defensively. "So does Addison."

 _"Addison_ was there? What was it, some sort of Shepherd family reunion? Don't think she'd be included, though..." he snickers, elbowing his way through the crowd as she trails behind him.

"Apparently she divorced Derek,not the extended Shepherd family." she rolls her eyes, trying to banish images of Addison being all cozy with her mother in law from her head.

They're married now. No reason to be insecure. Right?

"So," Alex clears his throat. "How is she, actually?"

 _Great._

* * *

It's surprisingly anticlimactic.

 _You have a daughter._

He'd expected tears, histrionics. Nothing.

Just that hard look in her eyes, mouth set firmly.

 _You have a daughter._

He feels his mouth open, and then shut; he seems to have forgotten how to speak. Or maybe he just can't think of anything to say , because really, what do you say to something like that?

"I." he manages, and Addison blinks in surprise. She'd probably expected yelling, and lots of it.

"Can I see her?" he asks,his voice so soft it surprises even him.

When he thinks of having children,all he sees is Zola's gummy smile,her chocolate eyes, springing curls ,not...he has no idea what this child of his even looks like.

She'll be beautiful though - say what you like about him and Addison, they're a chromosomal jackpot. They used to be teased about it all the time.

"Are you staying?" her voice cuts briskly through his reverie.

"Huh?"

"Are. You. Staying?" she enunciates carefully, as if he might be mentally challenged.

"I need to go." he stumbles. "Meredith, she said there's a hearing..."

"Is it more important than this?" she asks incredulously, sweeping a hand towards the door.

Of course she has no idea she's essentially asking him to choose between his kids. If he stays, they could lose Zola,and this time he's sure there will be no second chances.

If he leaves...

"I- if you're staying, the you can see her, Derek, I don't want that kind of instability in her life, never knowing if you're going to stick around or not." Addison answers him, and when he looks up at her she's fiddling with the thin gold chain around her neck, a nervous tic she's always had, and for some reason it sets him off.

"You _want_? What about what I wanted, Addison, did you _never_ , in all these years, think that maybe I might like to know my child. Or that I even had one? "

"I'm sorry,"she whispers, but he's in no mood to listen to her justifications.

"And Mark? Who is he?" he stiffens as a new realisation dawns on him. "She doesn't think that he's-"

"No!" she exclaims, her head snapping up to finally meet his eyes," No,Derek, of course not, she doesn't kn-"

"Why is he here?"he demands, suddenly furious.

 _Why does he get to be here when I never had the chance?_

"She wants him to be." she bleats pitifully, and she's barely any resistance at all as he shoves open the door and steps inside.

"Well," Mark says mildly from his place at the end of the bed. "Looks like we have a visitor."

He looks comically gigantic on the small bed, his hands rough against the daisy patterned bedspread, his feet propped on a tiny wooden chair.

But it's nothing compared to the elfin face tucked under his arm, the little person whose huge blue eyes skate over him and to her mother,standing helpless behind him.

"Mom, Mark's here. Look!" she says in a surprisingly clear voice that carries across the room.

"I know, baby." she smiles, moving past him to run a hand over her - _their_ \- daughter's head, tucking strands the same shade as her own behind her ears.

"And Mark got you a present." he hands her a small stuffed seahorse, and her face lights up in a grin; his heart constricts painfully at the tiny gap between her two front teeth, exactly like Addison's childhood photographs.

"Thank you, Markie." she looks past them at the intruder in her little kingdom. "Who are you?"

She's so...polite, her voice sweet,inquiring, but it hurts all the same. She doesn't know who he is. He's her father, goddamn it, and she doesn't know it.

"I'm-"

"-A doctor." Mark says smoothly,and Addison's eyebrows return to their usual place.

"Yeah,"he says weakly. " A doctor." It's true.

Her eyes narrow at the sound of his voice.

" You were yelling at my mom."

"We were just talking, Ro." Addison soothes, exchanging worried glances with Mark.

"I'm sorry." he says, taking a step closer and noting that Mark immediately tenses.

"Oh," the girl named Ro says, mollified. "I'm sorry if I was rude to you."

 _Jesus, who raised this child? Bizzy?_

"You weren't." he assures.

She smiles distractedly, and her attention has wandered; she's tugging her mother onto the bed, so that Mark has to shift a little and drape his arm around both of them in order to fit, and they look so much like a family that he can't breathe.

"Is grandma okay?" she asks anxiously, looking at her mother, who is looking at him, half apologetic and half guilty.

"Yeah,sweetie,she's fine."

"Is she here?"

"No, she's on another floor. This is for kids only, remember? This is where I work now."

"Pediatrics." she says ,pleased with herself.

"That's right, genius."Mark grins,lifting her and sliding her down between her sheets,giggling and squirming. "How about you go to sleep and let your mom talk to the doctor?"

"I'm bored of sleeping!"

"Are you?" Mark says seriously."Oh,but sleeping makes your leg get better faster, and you know what that means..."

"Really?"she looks at Addison. "I can go riding when my leg is better?"

"All day,if you want." she kisses her flaming head. "Sleep tight, Ro."

"Story."she commands as they try to rise off her bed. "I don't have any books to read here,so you have to tell me one...please?" she adds the last word at her mother's expression, and he swears she bats her lashes.

"Sure thing."Mark sinks back onto the bed, pulling Addison with him.

"I'll...wait outside."he gasps, barely making it out the door before he collapses against a nurses station.

"Everything all right,sir?" a nurse asks him, concerned.

"Yeah," he pants. "Just fine."

He has a daughter, a daughter who looks about five years old, who is apparently incredibly smart and who likes riding _(riding what?)_ and is more polite than most adults and who seems to read her own bedtime stories and is called Ro and who doesn't _know he exists_.

He sits there, heart pounding, breathing deeply, running through the possibilities.

She thinks he's dead. She thinks he didn't want her. She doesn't realise she's supposed to have two parents.

 _Although Mark's done a good job with the last one._

Addison told her he left. Addison told her he didn't want her. Addison kept his child from him - for six years .

His phone buzzes,once,in his pocket; a text from Meredith.

 ** _Where are you ? I'm leaving._**

His fingers shake while he tells her he can't come, that his mother is worse than before. He lies. It comes easily.

He can still make it out before the hearing, which is in two days. If he leaves now...

There's a rack behind the Formica countertop, lined with charts. Just like they have in Seattle.

Except it's the middle of the night and no one is around, and visiting hours are over, although Addison seems to warrant special treatment.

And he's just a doctor, so he reaches over, casually, and rifles through the bulky plastic files under _M_ but comes up empty handed

Oh.

Not daring to hope, he checks under _S_ , and bingo, there it is. _._

 _Shepherd_.

The boiling rage subsides a little, his vision clearing enough to allow him to read the file.

 _Rosalyn Montgomery Shepherd._

Rosalyn. Ro.

He says it a few times,rolling the letters over his tongue, trying it out. Rosalyn.

She'll be five in a week. The 22nd of December, to be exact. She's O positive. Like him. No allergies. A broken femur; transverse left distal fracture, significant comminution.

He busies himself with the post op X rays, distracting himself. Surgical reduction, flexible intramedullary nails. Good alignment. He wonders if she likes to dance, or skate, or ride bikes. This will be devastating,especially with the holidays a week away.

Minor lacerations along the left arm and facial bruising. Minimal blood loss during the surgery.

She's fine. Is she?

Does she think about him? He knows what it's like, at school , on the playground. Kids notice. They ask, sometimes not nicely.

 _Where's your dad?_

He wonders what story Addison's fed her. She's smart, she'll have asked. Maybe cried.

He wonders what Mark - _Markie_ \- is to her. What he is to Addison.

He wonders why no one-his own mother, for the love of god- has had no inclination tell him he has a child.

He wonders what the hell he's going to tell Meredith.

* * *

Flights suck.

This is the only coherent thought she has as she shuffles to the door, the sound of the bell ringing in her head.

"Janet. Uh, hello."

"Hello." her dark eyes take in the rumpled sweats, the tangled hair and last night's smudged eyeliner.

 _So_ not put-together mommy material.

"I'm sorry,"she says lamely, ushering her in. "We had to go to New York, Derek's mother was in an accident,and-"

"He's here,though?" she asks sharply, ignoring the offer of coffee.

"Uh. Not now,he isn't, he had to stay, but he might-"

"Might? He needs to be here _now_. There's another social worker coming in later to do a review, they're going over every aspect with a finetoothed comb, ,especially in light of your recent...issues."

"He's started another trial."she offers weakly.

 _That he won't let me touch and the FDA probably won't approve._

Janet restrains herself from rolling her eyes with seeming difficulty.

"You need to present a united front."

"We are!" she protests, hoping she doesn't sound too deranged. "We're married."

 _Married, although how seriously Derek takes that I don't know._

He left Addison after she screwed his best friend, which she only did because he was so obsessed with his career he forgot to notice his Isabella Rossellini lookalike wife.

And now she, who looks like ...well, like Meredith Grey, has potentially messed with his precious career and possibly had him permanently blackmarked by the FDA.

But as of now,they're married, and they want this baby.

"Well, I hope your husband can be here by the time the other social worker arrives." Janet sighs. "Although I was told he's a surgeon, not a pilot."

"He will...wait, when is this person coming."

"This evening." Janet says, already on her way out. "Get your husband here, . Zola deserves a home where her parents actually know if the other is coming or going."

* * *

"Derek."

She's standing in front of him, swaying a little in her heels, and Mark moves a bit closer, steadying her with his shoulder.

"How could you." he says,his voice rough.

"I'm sorry,"she whimpers. "But-"

"There are no _buts_ , Addison, there is no excuse for what you've done. No excuses. How could you hide this for _six years_?"

Mark guides them into an empty exam room as far from Rosalyn's room as possible; wise, considering both their tempers.

He hates that he knows them so well.

He catches his sleeve as he walks past him into the room. "She did it for a reason, Derek, and you need to understand that. You need to hear her out. If you don't...you're done hurting her, just remember that."

And he shuts the door,footsteps fading away as he goes god knows where, and it's him and Addison in the room.

"I don't know where to start." Addison says softly, leaning against the wall furthest from where he's sitting with his head in his hands.

It's quiet, and dim, he can see more caricatured animals on the walls, smell sanitiser and disinfectant and the faintest note of roses and vanilla and something else that makes up the perfume she's worn for years and that he could never remember the name of.

He knows he'll remember this moment forever.

"Rosalyn." he says slowly."It's a pretty name."

She'd always preferred stronger, more androgynous names, back when it was a topic of discussion between them. It's surprised him that she's chosen something so sweet and obviously feminine.

"You like it?"

"Does it matter?" This silences her, and they listen to each other breathe for a while.

"Rosalyn Shepherd."

"Yes. Well, Montgomery Shepherd. But no hyphen."

"Middle name. Like you."

Addison Adrianne Forbes Montgomery. Bizzy didn't like hyphens. He'd teased her mercilessly in med school, they always had to downsize the font when they wrote her full name on roll sheets, marklists, certificates.

Later, she hyphenated , _Montgomery-Shepherd,_ and he'd been touched; now, he thinks it may have been another passive aggressive dig at her mother.

"Yes."

"She looks like you." He closes his eyes, recalling crystal blue eyes, crimson ponytails, pale skin, gap toothed smile.

"Yes."

" _Stop saying yes."_

"You keep asking questions and the answer to them is yes." she says,exasperated, and she kicks off her shoes and folds herself onto the counter beside the tongue depressors and lollipops. "Derek, we need to talk."

"Oh,no. The time to talk was about six years ago... the twenty-second of December,2006, if I read the file correctly. I don't want to talk to you. You can talk to my lawyer. Goodbye, Addison."

 ** _Without a word the men-leaving the gardens tidy_**

 ** _The thousands of marriages ,_**

 ** _Lasting a little while longer;_**

 ** _Never such innocence again._**

* * *

 ** _I know, I know. You hate me. And Addison, and possibly Derek at this point. Don't. It'll be explained in the next chapter, I swear._**

 ** _Also,surprise! Markie's here. I had to have him. Should he have a chance to narrate? Addison will be narrating, a lot, down the line, so I'm focusing more on Meredith and Derek right now._**

 ** _Don't worry,this is NOT a Meredith bashing fest or a MerDer annihilation, it isn't really about any pairing at the moment._**

 ** _Just stick with me please, and review,and I'll update and I swear it gets better soon._**

 ** _Poem: MCMXIV, Philip Larkin._**


	4. not one way and not the other

_**Torn this way and that,**_

 _ **Not knowing which way to go;**_

 _ **no way back,**_

 _ **to that connection so strong.**_

* * *

"And this is the nursery?"

The new social worker is thin and pinched, beady eyes surveying every inch of the house.

"Yes. We've baby proofed it." she says,feeling slightly idiotic when the woman ignores her.

"Where is ?"

"He's...in New York . His mother was in an accident-"

She jerks her head in understanding. "That's fine. I think I've finished with my inspection. Just a few questions, now."

Derek's better at this sort of thing; he'd managed to charm a smile out of tightlipped Janet the first time he met her.

"Have you been previously married?"

"No, but Derek has."

"Any children?"

"No."

"So this will be your first." she looks around at the house she feels small in, rattling loosely around when Derek's not here to fill the rooms.

"Yes."

"Have you looked into childcare? You both have...demanding jobs."

"Yes."

"Will you be working full time?"

"Yes."

The thin wrinkled lips purse into something like annoyance. " Dr. Grey, you can answer with more than yes."

"But the answer to all of those things is yes."

"All right," she sighs wearily,as if she's exhausted her. "The hearing,as you know,is day after tomorrow. Ten am sharp. I'd like to see some interest from Dr. Shepherd before then."

* * *

He's in the elevator between floors when his phone rings.

"Derek, I think I passed the inspection, and the hearing is day after. Ten in the morning, you'll come, right Derek? You'll be here by then?"

She's gaspy and excited, words blurring together. "I will." he says tiredly.

He will. His lawyer is in Seattle. Same one as the one he used for the divorce. Specialises in family law; how ironic that it pertains to things that make families not families after all.

"That's all you're going to say?"

What else can he say?

 _Meredith, I have a child who's almost five?_

It would go over better in person, he thinks.

"Sorry,"he winces, shifting his weight against the wall so that the rail doesn't cut into his back. "Tell me what she asked you."

He listens to her patter about light sockets and table corners and baby gates and previous marriages and -

"What?" he asks, as neutral as can be.

"She asked if there were any kids. From before." she repeats. "I said no, obviously."

He sucks in a breath. It's over and done with; the lie has been told, and this time it wasn't his fault.

"Unless you and Addison have a secret lovechild." she teases, still giddy. "Derek,we're having a baby!"

"We are." he laughs into the phone, nervously , but a continent away, she doesn't notice.

* * *

"Mom."

"She told you."

"Why didn't you?"

"Ask Addison, it's not mine to tell."

"Cut the melodrama, Ma. Why?"

"Why _would_ I Derek? Think about that for a while."

He's five again, a scissored hank of Liz's hair in his hands. _Think about what you did for a while._

He does.

What _did_ he do?

* * *

She's still there outside her room, changed into dark green scrubs now, tired and pale, shadows under her eyes.

Shes almost the same,just a little different. He'd never have noticed if he hadn't known her so well, before.

Her hair is shorter, streaked through with lighter shades that knowing Addison, is probably the work of a hairdresser and not the sun, but her shoulders are lightly freckled the way they used to be after a day on the beach. Her skin is a fading gold, instead of the alabaster he remembers. She lives in New York. It's the middle of the winter.

Its none of his business.

They used to covet those scrubs though, dark green instead of the lighter color they wore as interns and residents. A symbol of being better than the others, ready, able to solve problems no one else could.

He traded them for navy in Seattle.

Seattle. Meredith is in Seattle. Zola is in Seattle. He needs to be there.

Which is why he's here,so he pushes away worries of how exhausted she looks, bending slightly in front of her.

"Addison." His voice isn't as hard as he'd like it to be.

She startles awake and for a fleeting second he feels guilty. "Derek?"

"I need to talk."

She opens her mouth, closes it again,thinking better of what she was about to say. "Okay,I guess."

"I need to know why you didn't tell me. About -her."

He won't - can't - say her name. Saying her nameakes it real and real is not good for what he needs to do.

"But first," he swallows, leaning away slightly as she straightens in her chair. "I need to ask you a favor."

"A favor." her mouth quirks into a familiar smile. "From me."

"Yes."

"I suppose I owe you everything you just asked for," she shrugs,settling in and patting the chair opposite.

He acquiesces, needing all the goodwill she can give. "I need you not to tell Meredith. About her."

She smiles blandly. "Two birds in one stone,Derek. Now I don't have to explain why I didn't tell you about her before. You would have said the same thing."

"Addison, this is different, I -"

"It's okay,Derek, we're great. Without you. We always have been, we always will be."

"No." he says forcefully as she starts to leave. "Sit back down and listen. You owe me, you said so yourself."

She's never been one to listen. But she does, now, and he's not about to waste the opportunity.

It comes tumbling out; Zola,the adoption, the botched Alzheimers trial, his problems with Meredith.

"Is Adele-" she asks hesitantly. They've always been close.

He shakes his head."Not good. I'm working on another one,though, but I've pretty much been blackballed."

"Sorry." she says automatically. More than what Meredith has said.

"So basically, Meredith said you have no kids, which she thinks is true, which is my fault for not telling you. "

"Well...yeah."

"And now the social worker will think you've been hiding things. And you could lose...Zola."

He nods, almost able to hear the thoughts racing in her mind. She's always been a loud thinker; fingers drumming, feet tapping, brow furrowed. It used to make him smile across crowded exam halls.

"Okay," she says. " Go."

"What?"

She looks impatient."Go. To Seattle. Have the hearing, get your kid."

"She's not my only kid." he says, and she looks slightly guilty.

"I thought you were going to sic a lawyer on me."

"I was." he says truthfully.

"What happened?"

"I ... thought about things. Realised that we weren't in the best of places when she was conceived. That I wasn't the ideal father. But I still want to know why your did it."

"And I'll tell you," she says, lunging for the door as a shriek echoes through the hallway. "Later."

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Miranda Bailey stands beside her, hands on her hips, glaring.

"Scheduling my surgery?"

"You're doing a strictureplasty your first day back?"

"Chief said I could."

"What happened to neuro? Not so dreamy anymore?" she shakes her head. "Girl..."

"I'm switching to General," she says loftily " because I want to."

 _And also because my husband can hardly look at me these days._

"Right," Bailey snorts. "Don't let your man define you, Grey."

"I'm not." she says,softer now. It's not often this side of Bailey comes out.

"Good."she snaps back to business. " I heard you ran into a certain redhead in New York."

"I did." _Damn you , Alex._

"How is she?" Bailey's pretending to concentrate on the board, all cool and unconcerned, but her tone is eager, and it sends a stab of annoyance through her.

She's been gone for years. It wasn't like she was here all that long. What is it about Addison Montgomery that people just won't let go?

"Great."

"Good." She's looking at her, dark eyes probing for more, but there's nothing to give.

Callie asks her the same thing in the cafeteria, and this time her feelings must show on her face, because the taller woman shoves her into a chair and glares until she spills.

"I mean, come on, why does everyone keep asking about her? No one-not one person- has asked me yet about the hearing, which is tomorrow,by the way. It's all Addison this and Addison that."

"We were being tactful by not asking about the hearing," Callie tells her, eyes rolling skyward.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Awkward silence. She's getting used to them now.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Good."

* * *

" _No."_

She has surprisingly strong lungs for someone so tiny.

"Ro, what happened?" Addison drops onto the bed, bundling the furious red faced child into her arms.

"I don't want to!"

"Don't want to what?"

Her voice is normal, like she's speaking to an adult. None of the baby talk they use on Zola.

"Walk."

"You want to stay in bed?" Addison questions. "You?"

"No." she scowls fiercely, nose wrinkling. "I don't want to walk in _those_."

He follows the pointed finger to a pair of soft white slippers on the floor, standard hospital issue.

"I want my shoes."

"Mark's getting your shoes." Addison says, clearly trying not to laugh. "But you have to wear these till he gets back."

"No."

"Rosalyn. We've talked about this. Everything can't always be like it is at home, you know that sometimes you have to -"

"Adjust." she mutters.

"That's right."

"And we're going home tonight, right? Like grandma?"

"Yup."

She lets her mother fit one, then the other slipper to her feet, then slide her to the floor, wrapping her little arms around crutches.

She takes tentative steps, the crutches unfamiliar and unwieldy, then notices him standing there.

"Hello," she peers at his visitors tag."Dr. Shepherd ."

"Hey," he squats to eye level.

"Why are you here?"

The question is blunt, a little rude, and Addison coughs behind them.

"Sorry." she says, cheeks pinking. She has a freckle on her left collarbone.

"To see you."

"You're my doctor?" she looks to her mother for confirmation.

"Not really," he says hastily. It's going to be hard enough explaining their relationship to her as it is. "But I am a doctor."

"What kind?" she asks, letting him turn her around to walk back towards Addison, who kneels, arms outstretched.

"A neurosurgeon - a brain do-" he starts to explain, and she cuts him off.

"I know what a neurosurgeon is, I'm almost five, you know."

He has no memory of Amy at five, but he's pretty sure she was nothing like this creature.

"And my mom's a neonatal surgeon. And Markie's a plastic surgeon. And Aunt Liz is a GP and Aunt Nancy is a OB and Aunt Kath is a psy-chi-atrist and Auntie Nae makes babies and Uncle Archer is a neurologist." she looks up at him. "But you don't know them."

He shares a look with Addison over her tousled head. She nods, if somewhat grudgingly. "I do, actually."

"How come?" she stops walking entirely and looks at him with interest.

"He's an old friend of mine." Mark says from the doorway. "And your mother's."

"Mark!" she lights up to see him, like she did yesterday, even more when he lifts her slightly so that Addison can slip puffy pink slippers with unicorn horns on her feet instead.

" _So_ much better." she sighs dramatically, and grins when they laugh,clearly the reaction she wanted.

"He's really your friend?"

They look at each other, all three of them.

Mark and DerekandAddison. That's who they used to be. The new equation is unstable,insecure, an unknown quantity.

"Yeah, he is." Addison says finally, tearing her gaze from his. " He's a friend."

"Where do you live?" she asks, and he's learning not to be bowled over by this child who apparently doesn't beat around bushes.

"Seattle."

"Oh," her eyes widen. "Seattle. King County,Washington. It has the Microsoft headquarters. And Amazon. And the Space Needle. And the Flight Museum and the first-ever Starbucks. And a _ferryboat_. We're going next summer. Can we see you there? Can we, Mom? Can we see in Seattle?"

"Sure thing." he whispers, eyes stinging.

 _She was going to tell me._

"Back to bed, Rebecca West." Mark says lightly, and she doesn't protest when he scoops her up and into the bed.

"We went to India last year," she shares excitedly."And Africa. And Gevena with auntie this year we're going to Tanzania."

"Sleep, Ro." Addison murmurs, smoothing her hair.

"We can go to Seattle right?" she sits up suddenly, the edge of her already oversize gown catching under one hand, and it slides off her shoulder a little. Addison tugs it back up.

But not before he sees the pale pink scar dipping between her collarbones, disappearing into the neck of her gown.

* * *

She stretches luxuriously in the bath, bubbles coating her skin, tickling her nose.

Tomorrow she'll have Derek and a baby , but tonight it's just her. She's a little too short; without Derek to prop her up she keeps sliding down the cool curved side of the tub.

She calls him, dangling one elbow out of the tub to keep the phone dry.

He sounds hurried; she gathers that his mother's been discharged and is going home. They don't speak long, but he does tell he loves her.

That he'll be there tomorrow.

There's still twelve hours. He can make it.

* * *

 _ **How to live in that fine balance of scales,**_

 _ **Never too far one way,**_

 _ **and not the other.**_

* * *

Sorry for the short ass chapter. It's the last I'll be posting for a while though, so...review please?

Please keep reading!

Poem:Rediscovery,Jack Turner.


	5. if only there were two of me

**_I know I said I wasn't going to update for a while. But I discovered I can type with my left hand. Mwahaha._**

 ** _Enjoy._**

 ** _And review._**

* * *

 ** _How very simple life would be_**

 ** _If only there were two of me_**

* * *

 _It looks a lot like the old one._

He pays the taxi driver as he gets out at the address Nancy wrote for him on the back of a coffee cup holder after he spent the better part of the day trailing Addison down hospital hallways as she dealt with discharge paperwork and dodged his questions.

And then he spent an hour on the phone with the social worker, convincing her that his mother needed him to stay, then half an hour trying to reach Meredith,only to be told she was in surgery.

He has about three hours to get to the hearing. So unless he finds a time machine, wings, or possibly both, he's not getting there on time.

He's always _just_ too late, it seems.

And now he's here, cold air biting at exposed skin, staring up at a brownstone not unlike the one he left eight years ago.

He's on the top step - _Derek please I'm sorry let me show you how sorry I am-_ , reaching for the doorbell, when the door flies open and a dark figure slams into him, causing him to grab the doorframe and a handful of something soft to save both of them from tumbling down the icy steps.

"Oh. Addison,I'm, uh,sorry,"he says awkwardly as she rubs her scalp - he'd apparently seized a handful of her short curls in his haste.

"It's fine," she mumbles, already turning away. "Don't go upstairs."

"You're leaving her in the house while you run errands?" he asks incredulously, and she turns, silhouetted in lamplight and falling snow, reminding him of so many Christmases ago.

"You don't get to judge,Derek," she says kindly, with surprising calm. "Don't go upstairs."

He makes his way into the foyer, making sure to wipe every trace of snow and and Manhattan sludge from his soles before he takes them off; he's sure Addison is still as neurotic as ever about things like that, and makes his way through the darkened house into the kitchen,which looks surprisingly used.

"Thought you might stop by." Mark says casually, poking a spoon into what's simmering on the range.

"You're here."

"So are you."

 _Mark and DerekandAddison._

"How is she?" he asks carefully, not knowing where the boundaries are. Or if there even are any, or if there should be any, with Mark. It's not like he's her-

"Mark?" a little voice echoes down the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come up here please?" I dropped my pencils and I can't..." she trails off, and Mark looks at him, appraising.

"Watch this and bring it up when it's ready," he indicates a bowl waiting on the countertop.

And he's gone, bounding up the stairs he's been told not to cross, before he can tell him about Addison's warning, so he resignedly stirs the mac n cheese - the first normal thing about his daughter - and wonders if he'll be able to make it back down before Addison gets back from wherever she's gone.

There's so little he's sure of, here, in this unfamiliar home - where Addison has been, these last six years. Why no one has ever told him about his child. The scar on her chest, and no mention of it in her chart. Mark's presence. His relationship with Addison. With his daughter.

He scoops her dinner into the bowl - white china, pink flowers; he questions the advisability of china and five year olds but decides it's not his place - finds a fork - it's comforting to know that eight years later, she still keeps them in the first drawer from the left - and heads up the stairs with a distinct feeling of being deliberately disobedient.

The second floor is dark too, soft carpet runner under his feet, dim light glinting off the knick knacks she seems to accumulate wherever she goes, and he follows the light streaming from the open door down the hall.

"-and that's from when we went on the camels-" a bell like voice rings across the pale pink room,and he follows it to the little figure sitting propped against numerous pillows on the bed in the middle of the room.

" Dr. Shepherd?" she looks up from a large book in her lap, frown giving way to a grin. "Hi!"

* * *

"Where is he?" She's muttering, not caring that the other people in the elevator are staring and backing away a bit.

"Losing it?" Alex inquires politely, leaning way too close as he reaches for his floor button.

"Yes. No! I mean, no, I'm not losing my _mind_ , just my husband..." she stabs at the keys again, getting the same message.

 _You've reached Derek Shepherd's voice mail, please leave a message at the -_

"Beep." Alex says,covering her choice expletive for the benefit of the others riding the elevator.

"Ass." she whispers into the phone.

"Hearing's in two hours,right?"

"Yeah."

"He's not coming."

"Thank you, Alex, for stating the obvious."

"Always ready to help." he grins,and then he's gone too, loping into the NICU that's become his domain.

Her phone rings again, and of course it's not Derek, but it's the new social worker, so she supposes she better pick it up.

"Dr. Grey. I'm just calling to confirm that you, at least, will be attending today's hearing?"

"Of course ."she says as chirpily as she can manage.

"Good. I've had a rather unsatisfactory phone call from your husband, but I suppose it will , in this case, be enough to sway the judge..."

She holds the phone a little further from her ear, the scratchy voice fading out. So he can find time to call this woman and spin her a sad story, but not to call his own wife.

Or show up to his own daughter's adoption hearing.

Ass.

* * *

"How come you're here?" she says, patting the flowered duvet beside her.

"He has nowhere better to be." Mark smiles, taking the bowl from him. "Come on, Ro, it's your favorite. Let's do this before Mom gets back, kay?"

She pouts, but accepts a forkful as she tugs his hand to get him to sit down. He does, shifting a horde of stuffed animals out of harm's way, and she pushes the book in her lap halfway onto his.

"So, this is from when we went on the camels..." she smooths a cardboard corner over a photograph, her fingers brushing over glossy laughing faces, flying red hair, sparkling blue eyes,times two, sitting on a camel, Addison's arms wrapped around their daughter, chin resting on her head.

"In India." she informs him, and he looks closer at the colorful traditional outfits they have on, trying to fit his head around how Addison ended up wearing them. On a camel, no less.

They look happy, just the two of them.

He listens to her patter happily about camels and cows and temples and the hotel in a palace as Mark maneuvers forkfuls around her words, humming and nodding occasionally, mostly just listening to her talk.

And talk she does, in a clear voice, each word perfectly enunciated, and he compares her to his other five year old patients, with their lisps and affectations she doesn't seem to have.

She talks about places he's only seen in documentaries, telling him about wildlife and local traditions until his head is spinning and the bowl is almost empty.

"-and now I'm going to show you my Tanzania book." she finishes, looking up at him. "Dr. Shepherd?"

"Huh?"

Mark is smirking as he puts the bowl on the spindly little nightstand. "Maybe tomorrow, okay, Ro? Give him a break?"

"Are you tired?" she asks him. "You know, Mommy says that if you get really really tired and you don't go to bed you get _overtired_ and then you don't really _feel_ sleepy but you are and-"

"And you will be, if you don't go to bed right now, young lady." her mother says sternly , but she's smiling.

"I was showing Dr. Shepherd the India book," she explains. "But he's tired now."

"Is he?" she murmurs, giving him a look.

"Mmhmm, but _I'm_ not. Can I do the rest of the book, please?"

She looks at Addison with beseeching blue eyes, but she seems to be immune.

"Tomorrow," she says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll help."

"I can't sleep." she says miserably, turning her face into her mother's shoulder and snuggling closer. "I read _two_ stories."

Mark nods in confirmation, raising his eyebrows in a question, but she shakes her head, mouthing _not today._

"Close your eyes, baby. Try. Like Vi told you."

" Auntie Vi ?" she perks up. "Can we call Lucas? I want to show him-"

"Rosie."

She screws her eyes shut obediently, and Mark pulls the comforter up around her.

"All set, kid?"

"Yeah," she says uncertainly. "Mommy, can you turn the thing on?"

Addison reaches into a drawer for a small white boxlike thing, which she sets beside her and turns on to fill the room with a soft soothing _whoosh_.

"All set." she says, more confident now.

" Good night, Mommy."

"Goodnight, baby."

They tiptoe out, and just as he gets his hand on the doorknob-

"Good night Markie."

"Night,kiddo."

He's halfway closing the door at Addison's instruction when -

"Good night, Dr. Shepherd."

"Goodnight, Rosalyn."

* * *

She's wearing a skirt Callie says is the only one she owns that isn't slutty, a blouse she thinks might be her mother's, and shoes that are killing her feet, but when she looks in the resident's locker room mirror, Alex assures her she looks very _mommy_.

"I'd better." she glowers at her reflection. "Seeing as I'm about to be a single mommy."

"Aw, he'll turn up." Cristina says when Alex looks to her for help. "You guys are like McPerfect."

"He was supposed to help his mom get to Nancy's house and then get on a plane. Instead, he calls the social worker and McDreamy's her into telling the judge he can't be here because of _extenuating circumstances_ , but no, he doesn't not call me to tell me what these circumstances are."

"Admit it," Alex grins. "It bugs that he's over there with my guy."

She doesn't bother asking who his guy is. Didn't he go all squishy and pink after she left? He's obviously still hung up.

"Your guy _sucks_." she says with feeling.

* * *

They end up in the warm kitchen after stumbling their way down the dark staircase, Addison still refusing to turn on any more lights.

"I told you not to go upstairs." she says without preamble.

"I made him," Mark says, exchanging a look with him over her head. "I didn't know you asked him not to."

She leans against the counter, facing away from them. "Derek. We need to talk."

"Haven't I been saying that all day." he can't help but retort, and Mark glares warningly.

"I'll -uh, go to bed. Night,Addie, don't stay up too long. Surgery at seven."

And he disappears back upstairs, leaving him to stare at his back.

 _Well, you can't expect that they'll have put their lives on hold while you were off in Seattle_ he reasons.

But still. It irks , just a little.

"He lives here." he addresses her back.

"Yes."

"Addison."

She turns around, face carefully blank. "Sit down, Derek."

He does.

"Can I ask now?" his voice is surprisingly gentle, and he looks at her with something almost like concern.

She makes a noise of assent, tucking her legs under her in the chair. This will take a while.

"It wasn't in her chart."

"That was an ER admit chart. Not her permanent file."

He looks at her expectantly, but she stays silent. She's answering questions, nothing more.

He sighs and gives in. "What is it?"

She doesn't need to ask what _it_ means. He's always been observant.

Except when it came to her.

"Pulmonary aplasia. Unilateral. She's fine now."

"She had surgery. Major surgery. And you didn't think to call me."

 _I wasn't really thinking at the time._

"No."

"Goddamn it,Addison, _why_?"

 _Because she wasn't perfect. Because you would have walked away. Because I wanted everything to be better for her than it was for me. Than it was for you._

* * *

"So if the hearing doesn't go our way..."

"She goes back to Malawi." the social worker sighs.

"And she won't-"

"She has no outstanding medical issues, so no. She won't come back."

" Then what happens to her?" her voice cracks a little.

"I expect she'll find loving parents," she gives her a pitying look. " In Malawi."

* * *

"I was going to tell you. At some point,really, I was."

He's pacing furiously around the island now, her eyes following him.

"Next summer? When she was already five?"

Her face says all the _no_ he needs to hear.

"Then why the hell were you coming to Seattle?"

"For Altman."

 _For Teddy?_

"She had the transplant when she was two, Derek." she explains patiently. "She's growing."

"But you weren't going to tell me."

"I was. But I wasn't coming to Seattle just for that."

"Why? What did you think I'd say, Addison, you know I've always wanted kids, I don't understand why the hell you would-"

"Not this kid," she says, the first hint of emotion breaking through her defences. "Not her."

"Wha-" he stops suddenly, staring at this woman who looks like his Addison but is nothing like her. "She's... She's mine. Right?"

* * *

"They don't bring her to the hearing?"

The woman is getting exasperated at this point. "Not unless you were the ones fostering her at the time of the hearing. So no, she won't be here today."

So no, she won't get to see her baby girl before they take her back to freaking Africa.

Half an hour to go.

* * *

She looks disgusted. Utterly and completely and totally disgusted, with him, and she's halfway out of the kitchen before he has the presence of mind to close his hand around her arm.

"Let go of me." she grits her teeth.

"Sorry," he says."I didn't mean-"

"But you did."

"No I didn't."

"Of course you did, you meant exactly that. You meant _how can you be sure, Addison,_ "

This feels way too familiar, a dialogue practiced a hundred times over.

 _Yes you did._ _No I didn't._

Accusations and denials, excuses and reasons. They're both so good at this game.

"I'm sorry." he says, and she must hear the sincerity in his voice because she lets him lead her back to the chair.

The wine is still in the same little wooden diamond shaped rack thing she's always used, the glasses he finds with some difficulty. They're not the same. Theirs were heavy, rounder. A wedding gift.

She sent them to him after the divorce went through. He doesn't remember what he did with them.

He sits down beside her, sinking uncomfortably deep into the cushion, one of those things that mold around your body, like its hugging you. Like he's being pulled in, like it's going to be a struggle to get out.

"Do the math, Derek." she says dully, tilting her glass to the light. "If you still aren't sure."

 _22nd December, 2006_.

He goes back about nine months, trying not to let the memories of those days weigh on him.

 _April 2006._

The month before Doc died. When did they... _did_ they,at all?

"Shower." she says emotionlessly, setting her glass down. "You won't remember."

But he does. And it makes him feel small,petty.

 _You would not **believe** the day I've had..._

Being disappointed to find long red hair in his fist instead of blonde, substituting what he had for what he wanted but couldn't have. What the vet had.

 _Maybe I should go on a date with the vet, because that seems to send you into a blind rage...but wait,that won't work either, because I'm not Meredith Grey._

Of course she knows the exact date. Being a double board certified OB has its perks.

If you'd consider them perks.

"I was going to tell you at the...prom thing." she says, her voice curiously flat.

"But I couldn't find you, after. And then in the morning," she laughs, but she doesn't sound amused. "In the morning, I ... well, I'm not proud of that . The bulletin board. Rather juvenile, actually. I'm sorry if I embarrassed her. But anyway, I knew it was over then."

 _What is she talking about?_

"So I left. I didn't want you to feel like it was an..." she draws a deep, shuddering breath. "An obligation. I know what it feels like. To be one. I didn't want her to feel that way too."

He knows she went to LA. Richard told him.

"So you went to LA."

"I did."

He remembers a terse phone call from Sam. _What are you doing, man? What are you doing?_

 _Moving on_ he'd said. He hasn't bothered to stay in touch with the Bennetts. She got them in the divorce.

"And she was born in LA?" he prompts.

"Yeah."

"So Mark..."

"He was my emergency contact."

He wonders why, in the two months they were separated, him in Seattle and her in New York, she changed her emergency contact. To Mark, of all people. And why they needed to call one at all.

"He came."

"He came," she agrees.

"And he stayed."

"He did." He catches the faint smile that curves her lips upward.

"She likes him."

She smiles at this, really smiles, looking up at him. "He's great with her, and she loves him... she actually calls him _Markie,_ and he lets her, she has to call every night when we're travelling, and ..."

He lets her talk, absorbing little tidbits of information. She looks animated for the first time since he got here, talking fast, hands flying. The way Bailey talks about Tuck. The way they talk about Zola.

"You guys travel a lot." he hedges.

"For work." she clams up. "She only comes sometimes. Less now, she's started school and I want things to be-"

"Normal."

"Yeah."

"You didn't think its abnormal to not have a father around."

"I didn't have one."

 _Neither did you._

She doesn't say it. But he knows she's thinking it.

So he says it. "Neither did I, and I -"

"Look how well that turned out." she gestures to the both of them.

"I'm fine." he protests, and she smiles.

"As fine as I am?"

* * *

"We're up next."

Hilda. Her name is Hilda.

She doesn't even find that funny as she watches a happy couple prop a chubby cheeked little boy in the judge's arms and take a picture.

"It's okay, Dr. Grey." she says wearily. "You tried."

"You mean we're going to lose?"

She just looks at her over her shoulder as she walks into the courtroom. "Like I said, you tried."

* * *

"Can I- tell her now? Who I am, I mean, can I tell her?"

"Not until you decide."

"What?"

"If you're doing it or not. The dad thing. You have to be all in if you want to be dad, but if you're going to be half in and half out...it's better if you're Dr. Shepherd."

"Addison, I have a life in Seattle, I have a wife. A daughter."

" I know. That's why I'm saying it's okay, if you want out."

" _Out?_ Out of my daughter's life?" he hisses, loath to raise his voice. "You'd like that,wouldn't you."

"I named her Shepherd, Derek. It's not like I cut her off completely."

"Not from the rest of the Shepherds, just from me."

"God,Derek. Stop whining."

"Explain to me,then, why you did it!"

"Because you _walk away_ , Derek, you up and leave when it suits you to go, you turn your back when things don't go right. You left me. You left your family. You left Meredith to deal with the hearing by herself when it suited you to be here, when you didn't want to talk to her. You leave, Derek, it's what you do. And it hurts. To be the one watching you go. And I didn't want that for our baby,so this time, _I_ left."

And leave him she did, he still remembers coming home- well, to the trailer- the night after prom, her keys under the doormat, closet doors ajar to reveal empty shelves, signed papers and a pair of rings at the end of the bed.

"What the hell made you think I'd leave?"

"Your girlfriend's panties in your pocket, for starters." she says acidly, and he goes cold.

* * *

"We need to leave, Dr. Grey." Hilda says in more gentle a tone than she's heard her use before.

"But-"

"It's over."

"He's with his mother,he couldn't come-"

"It shows lack of commitment." she says matter-of-factly, as they pick their way down icy courthouse steps, echoing the judge's words.

"He wants her," she tries again, wrenching her arm from Hilda 's iron grip. "It was his idea."

"Honey," she says as she bundles her into the car. "He clearly has different ideas."

* * *

"Panties?"

"Don't look so clueless, Derek, it's only cute on Ro and she's four."

 _I had on panties. Black. Do you see them?_

"Oh god."

"I suspect _you_ were the reason they fell off, not god." she says dryly.

"The bulletin board..."

"Yeah,"she flushes, embarrassed."Sorry about that."

"I didn't know. Until now."

" _I_ did." she looks at him, lips slightly parted, drawing breath. "If I hadn't left...would you have told me, Derek? Or would you have let us drag on?"

It's true, they _were_ dragging at that point. Unable to hold on, unable to let go. Clinging desperately as they tried to kick their way free from each other, they were going nowhere fast, and neither of them had the courage to admit it.

"If I hadn't walked in on you and Mark, would you have told me?" he challenges, leaning over the back of the chair she's sitting sideways on.

"Yes."

He steps back, surprised. "Really?"

"I would have...if you had given me the chance." she looks into his eyes, suddenly forceful. "I would have. And maybe, you would have cared."

There's a long silence, where he refills his glass and she twirls the stem of hers in her fingers. "Would you have told me about prom?"

Her voice is small, her jaw tense.

He swallows harshly, the astringent sharp taste of the wine unfamiliar on his tongue. He doesn't remember her drinking this stuff before.

"No."

"No?"

He swallows again, wishing for something stronger. "No. I would have stayed with you."

"Because it was the right thing to do." she says slowly. "You would have...stayed with me. And stared at Meredith.I saw you, at prom. While we were dancing. I'm not stupid,you know."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I, but it doesn't matter now."

"But I'm still sorry."

"Deal with it."

"How?" he says,sounding strangled with the weight of the evening's revelations.

She shrugs. "Fish. That's your usual way of dealing with things."

 _Always, with the mocking._

"Glad to know my wrongs haven't hurt your sense of humor."

"Takes a lot more than that." she says glumly.

"I'm sorry you had to do this on your own."

He is, actually. He would have stayed, if she'd told him about the baby. He would have stayed, she wouldn't have gone, and they would have been miserable.

And he would have been a terrible father, she hasn't voiced it yet, but he would have seen it as a burden, something to hold him back, drag him down. He'd have done it, but grudgingly. She deserved better.

"I'm not alone, not really. Your sisters, Carolyn, Nae, Savvy and Weiss. Mark." she laughs, a real , slightly disbelieving laugh. "Archer and my parents."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"No, Bizzy and she get along really well, which is slightly disturbing, but I'll take it. And the Captain thinks she's the smartest kid ever. Archer's her favorite, though."

"Can't say I approve." he shakes his head in wonder. "Bizzy and a grandchild."

"She's good with her. Apparently she's good as long as it isn't her own kid."

"What's she like?" he asks after another long silence.

"Ro?"

"No. Bizzy ."

"Haha." she rolls her eyes at him. "She's...amazing. I'm obviously biased, but she's incredibly smart. She loves to talk. She isn't a great listener but she's sensitive. She's obsessed with traveling -she'll show you all the scrapbooks tomorrow, be warned. She loves pink, and Christmas, and horses and ballet. Total girl. She has my hair color but-" she reaches for him then, pulling back at the last minute. "It sticks up, like yours."

"Like mine." he touches the back of his head.

"She's a lot like you, actually." she whispers. "That was hard at first."

"She's...advanced."

"High-functioning, they call it."

"And .." he searched fruitlessly for the right word while she watches in amusement.

"Hyper? We considered it, but no, she's just energetic. Her mind goes faster than her body can keep up with. It frustrates her."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure that I don't want you questioning every decision I've made in the last five years."

"Sorry. She's-" he lets out a laugh. "Exhausting."

"Yup."

"And amazing."

"She gets it from me."

"Oh,would you-just a minute." he wrenches his phone out of his pocket. "Meredith, thank god. I was just about to call you-"

He listens in silence, heart sinking, holding the phone away from his ear several times to avoid being deafened.

She refills his glass after Meredith runs out of steam and dissolves into sobs before slamming the phone down.

"Malawi, did she say?"

* * *

 ** _But One says "Stay" and One says "Go"_**

 ** _And One says "Yes," and One says "No,"_**

 ** _And One Self wants a home and wife_**

 ** _And One Self craves the drifter's life._**

 ** _The Restless Fellow always wins_**

 ** _I wish my folks had made me twins._**

* * *

 ** _I've always been conflicted how Derek found out about the panties, so I wrote my own scene._** ** _And just for clarity's sake, Addison left right after prom. I always thought it was low of Derek to wait so long to end_** ** _it with her after the exam room debacle. Then again, Season 2 Derek was a McDouche._**

 ** _More about Ro in the next chapter, promise. Isn't she cute? I'm basically letting her write herself. She lives in my head._**

 ** _To all the sweet people who wished me luck for exams... thank you. But I'm done with them. I'm on vacation. Yay._**

 ** _Stay tuned, review like Ro's future depends on it, and let me know if there's anything you'd like to see here._**

 ** _Poem:_** **_The Double Life, Don Blanding._**


	6. you don't ever let go

**_There's a thread you follow._**

 ** _It goes among_**

 ** _things that change._**

 ** _But it doesn't change._**

 ** _People wonder about what you are pursuing._**

 ** _You have to explain about the thread._**

 ** _But it is hard for others to see._**

* * *

 _Malawi, did she say?_

He can feel her hand on his, tentative at first, then gripping firmly.

"Derek."

Her voice is still ringing in his ears.

 _She's gone, Derek, she was supposed to be here and now she's gone..._ "

Derek!" her voice is sharper now. She never did leave much room for his moods. "Did she say Malawi?"

"They took her back," he swallows hard. "To Malawi."

"Did you say Malawi?" Mark echoes from the doorway, eyes narrowing, and Addison looks away.

"Their daughter - Zola- they've taken her back to -"

"Addison," Mark says gently. "No."

"Mark..."

" _No."_

 _What the hell?_

He wonders if their marital shorthand was always this annoying to Mark, and if he ever complained.

He did, he recalls. Loudly, and repeatedly. So he does too. Even though they aren't married.

"English please?" he asks and Mark pulls out a chair beside Addison, a hand on her arm.

"No."

"No _what?_ " he snaps. Rosalyn is less childish than Mark and she's an actual child.

"She's not going back there." he says simply , and Addison shrugs his hand off as she turns to him.

"But I can-"

"Who's not going back to _where_?" he demands, suddenly needing more than Addison's uncharacteristically disgusting wine to calm his nerves.

"I can help!" Addison is saying, but she isn't looking at him. She's looking at Mark. "Please, Mark."

* * *

"Mer."

"Go away."

"Mer, open the freaking door." Cristina sounds exasperated.

"No."

It's nice here, on the floor. Cool. Quiet. She can still see Peeping Ducky in the bathtub.

Derek named him that. Derek's gone now.

She picks up the rubber toy, shuts it in the cabinet under the sink. No more ducky.

* * *

"What do you mean, you can help?" He's on his feet now, gripping her other arm, and for a moment she looks small, Mark holding one arm and him the other.

She jerks away suddenly, but he doesn't let go. All he can hear is _I can help_. Mark does though, muttering apologies as he rubs the red welts on her skin.

"Addie, sorry." Mark whispers, all traces of anger suddenly gone.

"It's fine." she says, but something in her voice makes him release his grip too.

She folds her arms across her chest, rising from her chair to lean against the counter furthest from them. "I could help you. Bring Zola back, I mean. It's my fault you were here, it's my fault you missed the hearing."

 _Damn right it is._

"How." he wants to know.

"I-" she looks sideways at Mark. "I worked there for a while, a year or so ago. With Nae's foundation. We set up a clinic for women and children. Foreign aid is pretty much interconnected out there, if you can tell me the name of the organisation that brought her to the States, I can try to appeal for you."

* * *

"Meredith. Open the door or I'll bust it and you'll be pissed."

Alex sounds almost bored; she wonders who dragged him out here.

It's his fault. He brought Zola here.

And it's Derek's fault. He got her hooked on baby crack.

She didn't want babies. She thought she was going to be a terrible mom. And then he found this supercute baby and he looked so happy , holding her, and he looked so hopeful when he said _let's adopt this baby_ , and she knew it, she knew she was making a mistake when she said yes because look at her now, crying on the bathroom floor while Alex Karev of all people is comforting her because her husband isn't here.

He's in New York. With Alex's guy.

"Three." He starts counting menacingly.

"TWO." she yells. He won't do it.

"One."

* * *

"Alex Karev." he says, his words fast and pressured. "Karev started this, he called it Operation-"

"Africa." Addison smiles reminiscently. "God, Karev grew up."

"You know about it?" he asks, dumbfounded. No one in Seattle has heard from her in years, and if Karev's been hiding something...

"Yeah," she says, shifting a little. " I do."

"Please." He's right in front of her now, as close to begging her for anything as he's ever been.

"I can-"

"Call them." Mark says with finality, clearing away the glasses, one full and one empty. "Call them, make your appeal, and that's it."

"Mark, I don't think you have the right -" he's saying to the man who used to be his best friend.

"Mommy?"

Her head jerks towards the ceiling at the sound of her voice. "I'm going upstairs." she says flatly. "Try not to kill each other."

* * *

It's dark in the hallway , the way it always is after eight so that they can get her into bed by nine.

 _She's exhausting_ he said. He has no idea.

"Mom!"

Well, she's as impatient as he is. If he still has doubts about being her father, he can just-

"MOM."

"Coming."

She stands in her doorway with a hand on her hip, melting a little at the gap toothed grin she receives in greeting.

"You bellowed?"

"Hi."

"Hello. You do know it's midnight?" she asks.

"But you're awake." she points out.

"I'm not the one with a broken leg." She perches at the end of her bed, careful not to jostle her cast. "What is it?"

"I want to ask you something." she slides low, peeking over the blankets. "Say you'll tell me."

Last time, it was _why do boy seahorses have babies._ So she's a little careful about making promises.

"Well, it depends on what you ask," she begins, preparing internally for a long talk. "Something bothering you?"

She's just been in a bad accident, watched one of her favorite people get hurt and had surgery. She's got plenty to be bothered about.

But no, it's not any of that. She looks a little nervous.

"Nooo..." she fiddles with the sleeves of her pajamas. Heredity is a funny thing.

"Shall I leave?" she asks mildly, knowing it will galvanise her into speaking.

"You know how Dr. Shepherd is your friend? Your really old friend?" she asks, slowly, like she's choosing words with caution. " And he's named Dr. Shepherd... and Aunt Nancy is Shepherd-McAllister? And I'm-"

Rosalyn Montgomery Shepherd.

Why, oh why, did she not see this coming?

She should have taken that damn badge off Derek before he went in to see her . Not that he gave her much time to, but...

But she's protected her baby for so long. She just wants her to be whole a little while longer, stay safe in her arms, before she has to see what the real world is like.

"Mom?"

* * *

"What was that about?" he says furiously, turning to Mark.

He's taken too much from him already. He's not taking Zola too.

"None of your business." he replies coolly.

"It is my business if my daughter gets hurt because you can't-"

"Which daughter, Derek?" Mark asks, his voice dangerously soft, like he's never heard it directed at him. "Which one?"

"Don't you blame me for not being in Rosalyn's life," he snaps, his heart beginning to pound. "Not when you've been playing daddy-"

Mark's very close now, and the wall presses into his back. "Don't go there. You know it's not true."

"You live here. You're doing god knows what with Addison. She obviously adores you. I didn't know she existed until yesterday. What does it look like to you?"

"What it looks like to me is that you're butting in where you don't belong. Stay out of this,Derek, it's between me and Addison. I'm not going to stop you from being in Ro's life, that's Addison's decision to make. But this thing, about Malawi? Stay out of it, Derek."

And he leaves him there in the kitchen, against the wall, wondering just what the hell happened.

* * *

"Ro," she whispers, not knowing where to begin. "Honey, I-"

"Dr. Shepherd lives in Seattle." she presses. "And you said we were going to Seattle."

"For your surgery." she says automatically, buying time.

"You said I might not need the surgery." she protests, "and then Mark said we should go anyway because _it's already been too long, Addison._ "

She makes little quote marks with her fingers around the last few words, and she manages a smile through the tumult of her thoughts. "You're a little elephant, aren't you."

"I'm not fat," she giggles. And then, not to be easily deterred,"but I remember everything."

 _You do , don't you_ she thinks wryly. What she wouldn't give for a child whose brain isn't light years ahead of her body.

Actually, she wouldn't trade her daughter for anything, but just sometimes, it would be nice if-

"You said you'd tell me," she reminds her, although she'd _(very wisely)_ done no such thing. "Your name and Uncle Archer's name is Montgomery. And Dr. Shepherd's and Aunt Nancy and Grandma Carolyn's name is Shepherd. And my name is Montgomery Shepherd. Mommy, is he my -"

"How come my two favorite girls are still up?" Mark says, a tight lipped smile on his face.

"Mark," she turns her stern gaze to him. "Mark, is Dr. Shepherd my dad?"

* * *

He remembers that phone call, three days before Christmas, in the middle of the night.

Nine p.m in LA.

He remembers Naomi frantic and demanding, he remembers taking the first flight out, giving consent for them to start the surgery.

He remembers Rosalyn tiny and pink in his arms, her lips curled like petals, smiling unfocused at him. Addison, tired and drained, incandescent with joy.

 _Isn't she perfect_ she'd said. And she was, until today.

Now she's about to be thrown into the big bad world. She's about to find out that the father she's dreamed of for years is actually a very self-absorbed jerk, her mother has been lying to her for years, and not everything is rainbows and sunshine.

He looks over at Addison; she's as exhausted as she was that day.

"Mom, tell me!"

"Honey, not now-"she soothes, stroking her hair, mumbling useless platitudes.

" _Mark,_ " she cries, pushing her mother away. "Is he?"

* * *

"Nancy?"

The last thing he needs at the moment us a phone call from his sister.

He listens with growing unease, his head beginning to ache. Just when he thought it couldn't possibly get worse...

"You're sure?" he asks,shaky. His mother never said anything about how the crash happened. He just assumed the ice, the snow, skidding tires.

"Look at those patterns, Derek," She's saying, voice thready. " They don't lie."

"But why? Your remember how strict she was with us."

"That's what they need to talk to her about," she's saying, and he knows what's coming. "They'll be here tomorrow morning, so can you-"

 _She's gone, Derek, our baby's gone._

"Yeah," he's already reaching for his laptop to cancel his flight. "I'll be there."

* * *

 ** _While you hold it you can't get lost._**

 ** _Tragedies happen; people get hurt_**

 ** _or die; and you suffer and get old._**

 ** _Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding._**

 ** _You don't ever let go of the thread._**

* * *

 ** _Hello. I know I haven't updated in an age. Sorry._** ** _I love you if you're still reading!_**

 ** _I also swear (again) that I'll update my other fics soon. Writers block , you see, is a bitch of epic proportions. I did however write a oneshot. It helps to do something else for a while, so if you have any prompts for stuff you'd like to see...give please._** ** _Also go read said oneshot. Thank you._**

 ** _And also a lot of you have been saying you'd like me to keep going with Absolution (which was supposed to be a one shot but I couldn't stop). Should I? Or should I quit while I'm ahead?_**

 ** _I hope you guys don't hate Addison here enough to stop reading. She'll redeem herself eventually- didn't we all hate her for like five minutes in season one, only to fall in love with the character ?_**

 ** _Also, cliffhanger. Teehee._**

 ** _Love you people. Please review!_**

 ** _Poem: The Way It Is, William Stafford._**


	7. stretch till I break

**_Some answers, some more questions._**

 ** _Thanks so, so much for the lovely feedback I've been receiving. See how fast it makes me update?_**

 ** _Hint,hint._**

* * *

 _"Look at those patterns, Derek, they don't lie."_

They don't. He studies the images Nancy's sent him, willing it to not be true. But it is, it's right there in front of him plain as day in the position and spread of the cracks, glowing dark through the startling whiteness of bone.

Dashboard fractures.

How didn't he notice this before?

 _I need to tell Addison,_ he thinks wearily. _I need to call Meredith_.

There's always something he hasn't done right, or on time, or well enough.

But this... he has no idea where to start.

* * *

"I knew it." she says, hands fisting into her comforter. "You're _liars_ , both of you are _liars_ and I hate you. Hate _hate_."

She can feel hot tears begin to course down her cheeks, marking salty trails like the ones on her daughter's face. "Sweetheart, I can-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" she says, rubbing angrily at her eyes. "Why didn't _he_ tell me?"

Briefly she wonders which _he_ she means, Mark or Derek, and she reaches for her, needing the comfort of being able to soothe her.

She arcs away from her hands, lashing out. "You lied. You said you would tell me when we met him and you _didn't_."

"Addison, there's something we need to - oh. Maybe later."

Derek's hovering in the doorway, clearly torn between wanting to put distance between himself and the impending meltdown and wanting to know what's going on.

Ro makes the decision for him; she's her father's daughter after all, straight to the point, no cushioning of gentle words or room for escape.

"Are you my dad?"

* * *

"He would have been a good dad," she's mumbling. "Not like..."

Okay, this is enough. He didn't sign up to be an ovarian sister, he's not O'Malley and he can't deal with the crying anymore.

"Dude, suck it up and get off your ass. You're gonna be late for your surgery."

"Alex, I just lost my kid, I'm allowed to ...wallow, or whatever in self pity for a while." she snaps.

"Yeah,well, you're about to lose your job if you don't move. And after what happened with Shepherd's trial, do you really want to-"

" _Don't_ you bring the trial up to me," she hisses. "Not you."

Okay , he walked right into that one.

"Look," he says uncomfortably - this is girl shit, none of his business really, but this is Meredith and they've been through a lot of crap together, so he's trying - "There's lots of other kids..."

She sucks in a sharp little breath, and he can hear her shift against the door he bruised his shoulder against. Damn nineteenth century construction.

" _Other_...other kids? Really, Alex, you thinks it's that easy, like I'll cry for a while and you can dangle a new baby in my face and I'll be all bright and shiny again? No. _No._ Actually, you know what? No more babies. No more getting suckered into playing mommy. I'm a surgeon, a _surgeon_. I don't need to be mommy. I'd be a terrible mommy anyway, I mean, look at _my_ mom, she's like...well, I'd be worse. And Derek's not interested anyway. He's in New York, with your guy...yeah, okay. That's it-" he's knocked to the hall floor by the door as she swings it wide open but she doesn't notice. "I'm done. Gotta go, thanks."

Well, Shepherd's really gonna bust his ass for this.

* * *

It's funny how someone so little can have three adults frozen in trepidation with a simple sentence.

 _Are you my dad?_

Is he?

He's her _father_ , yes, there's no doubt about that, not now with way she cocks her head, the flash of her eyes, the force with which she hurls her words at him.

 _Are you my dad?_

He's her father but he's not her dad or her daddy or papa or whatever else kids call the men who father them. He didn't cut her cord, he didn't get to take her home from the hospital or wake up to feed her at two in the morning and he didn't get to mark her first smile and her first tooth and her first step and all the other moments that are so small but so special.

But he's here _now_ , and clearly their secret is out; Addison is sitting with arms outstretched as she leans away from her, and Mark... Mark looks defeated.

"I'll be downstairs." he mutters, squeezing Addison's shoulder on the way out.

"Damn it!"

They all flinch at the adult inflection in her voice as she glares around at them. "Tell me. Mom? Mom, please?"

She goes from enraged to pleading in the space of seconds, and he's left reeling as her eyes meet his. "Please?"

It's better to be honest , he reasons. If Addison had been honest about five years ago they wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe the truth will fix what the lies broke.

So he says "Yes."

He's done it, he's said yes. And now she looks ... satisfied.

"Ro-" Addison pleads, tucking her hands carefully to her sides. "We need to tell you something-"

"Didn't you want me?" she asks. She could be asking about anything, she could be asking if he wants an extra piece of chocolate for all the emotion in her voice.

"I did want you," he says gently. "But-"

"Because I'm sick." she says, looking mildly curious. "Right? So you want another baby. You want _Zola_."

 _Little pitchers._

"It's not like that," he says carefully, looking to Addison to toss him a lifeline here, but she looks completely adrift.

"I -"

"He didn't know about you." Addison says finally, leaning back in her chair. "I didn't tell him about you, I kept you all to myself."

"But - why?" she demands, confused.

"I was ...different, then." he says, grateful that Addison has put the facts out so bluntly. At least he doesn't have to be the bad guy here. "I don't know that I would have been a good father."

Would he? He thinks back to that first year in Seattle, most of it spent arranging his schedule around Addison's so that they crossed each others paths as little as possible, the burden that his marriage had become, the obligatory smiles and kisses and _everything's okay_ except that it wasn't.

It wasn't okay because he was in love with Meredith and he was married to Addison, he promised his wife that he was going to _try_ and then he deliberately ruined the shreds of his marriage in the most hurtful way possible.

That year, he thought mostly of himself, a little about Meredith, and - honestly -nothing of Addison. He was selfish, he was cold, and petty, and all the adjectives Addison loves to throw in his face and he loves to deny.

And not that he's about to admit it, but she did do the right thing when she hid their daughter from him. Because she would have been just another reason for him to shoulder the deadweight of his marriage. He would have resented her.

He wouldn't have shown it, of course. But kids know. They're sensitive. He thinks about Addison, growing up mostly neglected in that frigid estate, with a father who occasionally remembered her existence and a mother who gloried in belittling it.

"Are you a good one now?" she asks, one hand creeping unconsciously towards her mother, who wraps her fingers around it.

"I'd like to try." he says sincerely.

"Are you going to try?" she asks anxiously.

 _Am I?_

The cat is out of the bag now, there's no going back now that she knows who he is.

The question now is whether Addison will let him. If she thinks he can be her father, if she trusts him enough not to hurt her.

"Yeah," she says, her eyes bright but her voice steady. "He is, and I'm sure he'll be great, Ro, so if he wants to..."

"I do," he says quickly. He's never seen anything as bright as that grin, never heard anything as sweet as that laugh.

"Really? For keeps?"

"For keeps, baby." he laughs, and then he does what he's been longing to do for the last thirty hours as sweeps her into his arms, kissing the top of her head.

* * *

They stumble into the living room where he's sitting nursing a tumbler of scotch, watching the lights on the tree flicker and scuffing at the edge of the rug like she's always telling him not to.

He's not her father. Biologically, anyway. But he's known her since she was two hours and seventeen minutes old. He chose her middle name - Marianne, after Addison's great grandmother. He changed diapers and did two am feedings and bathed her and took endless photos in the tub and the beach and on kitchen counters and tables and shamelessly showed them to anyone who'd look.

He held her mother's hand while they told her the diagnosis, he was there when they did the surgery, he was there after and he was there every time she needed him to check for monsters under the bed and to give her piggyback rides and to run circles around her mother.

He's her Markie, she calls him every night before bed when they're away and he's the one who glues Polaroids into her scrapbooks when they come home and sometimes when she slips a trusting little hand into his he feels tears pricking at the back of his eyes because _never_ has he been loved so completely and unconditionally and guilelessly as she does.

And now Derek gets to show up and say _I'm your dad_ and she's looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky.

Oh no, he's not going to get in Derek's way. She deserves to have both her parents.

The reason he's getting in Derek's way is -

"Mark," Derek is saying huskily, sitting down opposite him. "Thank you."

"Why?" he grunts.

"For-" he gestures to the ceiling, and he guesses this means he's talking about Ro. "She's a great kid."

"Takes after her mom." he says. He didn't say he'd make this easy, just that he wouldn't get in the way.

"Thanks anyway." he says, and he looks dangerously close to actual tears so he pours him a glass of scotch instead. "Cheers, man. You're a father."

"How mid century of you," Addison quips, sinking down beside him and he lets his arm fall around her. "Although I thought the liquor was consumed at the actual birth, and that cigars were involved."

"Not that I was present at the actual birth." Derek tosses back and her face falls, just for a moment. He doesn't say anything; maybe if Derek picks at her long enough she'll get pissed and refuse to-

"I can't get through," she muttering, stabbing at her phone. "Stupid phone lines."

He remembers just how stupid those phone lines can be, he didn't even know what had happened until hours after the fact, when -

"Shh," Addison says frantically, swatting at them even though no one's saying anything. "I'm through, I just need her to pick up."

* * *

"Call him and yell at him." Cristina suggests calmly, shoving half her sandwich in her mouth as she flips through an article.

"I'll yell if he picks up the phone."she snaps back, wishing Cristina could be less...robotic, sometimes. There's more to life than surgery. Like babies, and... okay. Focus. Derek.

"Leave a voicemail." she suggests next, cramming the rest of the sandwich into her mouth as she gets up , so it sounds like _lee ah vomail._

His phone buzzes just as Addison sucks in a breath, sharp, the way she does just before she says something she rather wouldn't.

She gestures angrily for him to turn it off as she turns into the phone, and he can hear the static from where he's sitting.

"Ali? Ali, it's me, it's Addison-" she's saying, twisting a little to see if she can get better reception, and she gets up and curls into a chair closer to the window. It seems to help, because she lowers her voice and he can't hear her anymore.

 _Meredith_ it says on the screen. She'll have to wait. She'll understand.

"Who's Ali?" he says to Mark. He doesn't answer, and when he looks at him he's got one hand still in the air, trailing after Addison.

"Mark?"

 _What's going on here?_

"Yeah?" he startles, pretends to have been reaching for the bottle all along.

"Who's Ali?"

He doesn't answer again until he's poured himself another drink and swallowed like a dying man. And when he does, he looks not at him but at Addison, who seems to be getting more and more agitated, hands flying wildly.

"Her student in Malawi."

* * *

 _ **Addison and Derek need to talk. So do Mark and Addison. So do Derek and Meredith. Next chapter will be a talk-fest, I promise.**_

 ** _Feed the review whore, please?_**


	8. what you don't know won't kill you

**_Hi again!_**

 ** _Sorry for the delay in the update...but read now, rambling later_** ** _._**

 ** _Enjoy._**

* * *

"You sure that's all he said?"

"Yes, Alex, I'm sure. Like I was the last time you asked me. And the time before that. And before that, and before _that..."_

"I get it. You're sure." he grunts, cramming his legs into the tiny space between the seat in front of him and the edge of his own highly uncomfortable seat.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here."

"No."

 _Oh, Alex._

"You do realise Addison probably hasn't spent the last six years thinking about you, right?"

"Wh- shut up, Grey, it's not like that, she's...she's the one who saw me for what I really was, okay? She's the reason I'm not a arrogant asshole plastics guy and that I'm acually doing what I love...well, her and Robbins anyway. Don't go ...cheapening it, she asked me to come and I'm here. That's it."

 _She asked me to come and I'm here_ applies to her too, except it was Derek who asked her to come.

She wonders where Addison had their divorce papers drawn up. Maybe she'll ask her.

Just kidding.

* * *

"So what's your plan?"

"I don't _know_ yet, Derek, I'm still waiting for Ali to call me back."

"It's been hours!"

"She'll call," she says confidently. "I know she will. Where's Meredith?"

"In the air somewhere. _How_ did you get tickets so -"

"Shh," she hisses as she dives for her phone, propped carefully in the window.

"Archer." Mark says as he slumps into an armchair, nursing a mug of coffee he can smell across the room and looking distinctly the worse for wear.

"Excuse me?" Last he checked, he looked nothing like Addison's brother. Maybe Mark is going senile and not his mother.

Speaking of whom, there's a very painful conversation to be had in the near future.

"Archer," Mark says again "He pulled a few strings. For the tickets."

Great.

"How is Archer?" he asks carefully.

Mark snorts. "His usual philandering philanthropic self. He lives here in New York now, actually, when he isn't jetting around selling books." he sips coffee he's very pointedly not offering him. "I guess he'll drop by sometime soon. Ro thinks he's the second coming. "

Wonderful.

* * *

"How are we getting...where we're going?" Alex inquires as he peers outside at the flurries of snow.

"We...are going to Addison's house," she says distractedly, trying to find her suitcase amidst all the other black suitcases. "Derek was going to pick us up, but-"

"Wait-" Alex growls. "You didn't tell him you switched us to an earlier flight?"

"Nnnoo."

"So what's your plan, you gonna just pop up at your husband's ex - wife's house all _surprise surprise_ ?"

"Ye-es?"

"For a surgeon, you really are incredibly stupid," he grumbles. "Taxi!"

* * *

"What did she say?" he demands, the instant she gets off her phone.

"She said-" she glances at Mark, who seems very interested in the pattern of the rug all of a sudden. "She said that they managed to find out that Zola is in an orphanage in Lilongwe-"

"Shit." he mutters; there was a chance, as long as she was still here, but now...

"- which is good," she explains quickly. "Because the White Foundation aids that institution,but I would have to go -"

"No way." Mark says with an air of finality.

"Mark, _shut up."_ he snaps, at the end of his (limited) rope with him. "You have absolutely _no_ right to interfere in this."

"And you have _no_ idea why I'm interfering, since you haven't been around for any of it that last couple years, Derek, so _you_ shut the hell up."

"Hell is a bad word." Ro pipes up from the doorway, spinning circles in her wheelchair."You forgot me in the kitchen, by the way."

"Look at you go in that thing." Addison says cheerily, shooting the both of them furious glares.

"I can go _really_ fast," she grins, stopping her spinning by bumping against the mahogany doorframe; he sees Addison wince through the corner of his eye. "Wanna see?"

"No!" They chorus. Finally, unanimity, even it is about wheelchair racing.

" Well, can I have cereal?" she pouts, and Addison springs up instantly, looking relieved.

"Sure. You two-" she points at them as she jogs after her speeding daughter. "Behave."

Mark turns on him the minute the squeaking of Ro's wheels fades away. "She's not going, Derek."

"Mark, I know you're possibly the most emotionless person I've ever met, but for once in your life would you please stop thinking about yourself? Not having your - _girlfriend_ " if that's what she even is-. "- here for three, maybe four days, is that so hard? Because this is my daughter we're talking about, my baby who is currently in a country she doesn't remember being looked after by strangers."

"And this is the mother of your other daughter we're talking about here, remember her ?" he holds his hand up to his hip. "About this high, red hair, blue eyes? Broken leg? Possible PTSD? Yeah, that one. It's her birthday and Christmas, Derek, do you really want to send her mother on a wild goose chase right now?"

"She has me!"

"Right," Mark snorts. "You. Her father she's known about for three seconds."

"It wouldn't be that way if I'd had anything to do with it." he says, wondering where the hell Mark gets off telling him what to do.

"Really, Derek? How long's it been since you talked to...Amy? Did you even know Kath's in Tibet? Do you know that Liz's oldest is in college now? You _suck_ , Derek, you suck at keeping up and you know it. Addie was the only reason you ever showed up for family stuff in New York and since the divorce you haven't exactly picked up the slack, so please, do tell me how you were going to be a part of her life even if she _had_ told you years ago."

"I'd have found a way, Mark, not that's it's any of your business-"

" _Qui_ -et" Addison hisses as she stalks back into her office. "She broke her leg, not her ears. She can hear you."

"Sorry." Mark says automatically.

It takes him a little more effort, mainly ly because he's staring daggers at Mark.

"So when can you leave?" he asks Addison briskly as she perches on the arm of Mark's chair.

"What did I just say." Mark growls.

"Doesn't matter." he snaps back.

"I-" Addison starts, only to falter under Mark's gaze. "Shouldn't."

"Addison, we're talking about my daughter here, my very small, probably very scared daughter who's recently had surgery that wasn't even available in that country. Do you really want to sit here and debate this with your boyfriend?"

Why won't they just come out with it and say they're still screwing each other? It's not like he's going to care.

"I-" she tries again, and he loses it.

"Call yourself a doctor? Call yourself a _mother_? Addison, I knew you were selfish, but this is low, even for you-"

"I. Called. Karev." she manages through gritted teeth. " _He_ can go. And now, would you like to explain to me why there was a very loud voicemail from Nancy about police interviewing _your mother?"_

* * *

"What exactly did Addison say to you?" she questions, wondering how her fishing, flannel wearing, Jeep driving husband lived in this jungle of humanity for almost his whole life until she met him.

He hesitates a little before he says "Something about Zola's adoption. She used to work for a foundation that supports the orphanage she's in now and Addison thinks she might be able to-"

" _Might?_ "

" _Might_ is a hell of a lot more than nothing, which is what you've got now." he glances at her sideways.

"Hmm."

* * *

"You called Karev?" he asks, dumbfounded. "Why?"

"Operation Africa was his baby. He knows everyone on both sides, he'll be useful."

"So you're not going?" Mark confirms.

"Well, Karev can handle it. And if he needs someone, I can -"

"Cross that bridge when we come to it." Mark finishes. "And now, Derek, about that voicemail..."

Shit.

"Well, the thing is..." he takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "Can I use your laptop?"

"Knock yourself out." Mark grunts, shoving it toward him, but not before he shuts down every window he has open.

He takes a minute to pull up the images Nancy sent him, arranging them side by side so they can analyse them.

It doesn't take long for it to hit, and he can see it on both their faces - _why didn't I notice this?_ "I didn't either." he admits.

It's clear as day. Femur fractures, Ro's on the left and his mother's on the right.

They call them dashboard fractures. A high velocity impact to the knee. Usually the dashboard of a car, crushed inwards when a car slams into something head on.

Which means that...

"She was in the front seat?" Addison whispers, horrified. "Carolyn would never have-"

"She's the worst when it comes to rules," Mark says, running a hand through his hair, looking straight at Derek. "She taught us to drive...hands at ten and two, Derek, remember, she confiscated that damn Mustang of yours..." he laughs reluctantly.

"-when she caught me in the back with Cassie Sullivan and a bottle of UV -"

"-both of which were mine." Mark grins, before they remember where they are and why and what they're discussing, and it slides off his face.

"A tree," Addison is muttering, "Derek..."

"It was dark," he's hypothesising. Hoping. "It was icy, slippery, late, she was probably in a hurry."

"And what explains my four year old in the front seat?"

 _Our four year old_ he thinks, but keeps it to himself.

"Easy, isn't it?" Mark is saying, getting up. "Ro, can you come in here a minute?"

* * *

"Dude, maybe I should give up the surgeon gig and get a cab." Alex mutters in the slightly sticky, cigarette scented backseat. "They make serious money."

"No much money," the cabbie says vociferously, glaring balefully at them in the rearview mirror.

"Think he's asking for a bigger tip?"

"I'll tip him whatever he freaking wants if he gets us there faster." she says.

"Missing the husband?" Alex quirks an eyebrow. "You're going soft."

"Shut up. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can hear from Addison about Zola. "

"So you miss _Addison._ "

"Alex, I'm _this_ close to killing someone, and there's no one here except you and the cabbie, who I need to get me there. You, on the other hand, have no purpose that I can see. So please stop talking."

But she does let him take her hand and give it a little squeeze; it feels nice to not be alone right now.

* * *

She comes into the office at full tilt, squeaking to a stop at Addison's feet.

"Yeah?"

She glances at Mark before she slides to her knees in front of Rosalyn's wheelchair, placing her hands on the arms and smoothing her hair out of her eyes. "Sweetheart, we need to ask you something, and you need to be really honest, okay? Can you do that?"

She hesitates for a second, and the guarded expression on her little face is so adult he feels discomfited.

"Okay," she says. "But don't ask me any secrets, because I can't tell you those."

What secrets could a four year old possibly have?

"Right," Addison says, clearly gathering her nerves. "Sweetie, when the accident happened, were were you in the back seat?"

* * *

"This place is so..." she says, looking up the sleet-slick steps at the dark, glossy front door with its heavy brass knocker.

"Like Satan's lair?" Alex grins.

"If Satan were a filthy rich surgeon living in Manhattan." she says, hauling her stuff up the steps and wondering how the hell they're going to find a hotel room at this hour the week before Christmas. "But I was actually going to say it's intimidating."

Or maybe she feels that way because it belongs to her husband's ex-wife , with whom he's spent a very secretive few days.

The door is opened by a disheveled looking Derek, just a crack at first, and he's looking back over his shoulder, asking "Were you guys expecting someone?"

 _You guys?_

" _Meredith_?"

"Hi?"

"You're...early." he says, and in the moment it takes him to plaster on a smile, her heart falls sickeningly.

"Surprise." she says weakly.

"It's freezing," Alex complains. "Are you letting us in or not?"

He dutifully slides her coat from her shoulders, stowing it in a tiny closet off the foyer like he's lived here forever. Like he knows where all the pieces fit, and he's looking at her like he's trying to figure out where to put her.

"Addison here?" she asks casually just as she pops up, scraping her hair back into a ponytail.

She looks...different. Still annoyingly gorgeous, still leggy and fabulous, but she's never seen Satan in an ancient T shirt and baggy sweats before.

"Meredith, hi." she's saying breathlessly, swinging the door she's come through shut with her foot.

But not before a wheelchair comes whizzing through it, nearly hitting Meredith in the knees.

A wheelchair with a little girl perched in it, a little girl with a wavy tangle of crimson hair and Addison's nose, and the bluest eyes.

"Hi!"

* * *

 ** _Okay, so I would request you to be patient with the Carolyn thing._**

 ** _I think you'll like where it's going ._**

 ** _Also I don't remember/know what actual four year olds are like, so excuse Ro. And she's precocious, remember, which is also going somewhere._**

 ** _And last but not least, I thrive on reviews like Addison thrives on wine and alarmingly expensive shoes._**

 ** _Newton's fourth law says that the amount of reviews are directly proportional to the frequency of updates._**

 ** _Just saying._**


	9. you can't not want the things you want

_**Some answers, some new questions.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

"Do you do this often?"

"Mere...what?"

"Do. You. Do this often," she stares up at him from the soft chair she's sunk into in what seems to be Addison's picture-perfect living room, feeling like it's trying to swallow her up. "You know, run away from your life. Your _wife._ Find new ones?"

 _And a kid thrown in for good measure!_

But she doesn't say it, because maybe, just maybe, God is cutting her a break and he doesn't have a secret child.

Yeah right.

Just like he _didn't have_ a secret wife all those years ago.

"I can explain." he says, his eyes earnest, leaning over her with his hands on the arms of the chair. "Let me."

"Like hell you can," she snarls, pushing at his chest, wishing for more effectual fists. "How long did it take you to replace Zola?"

Because that's what it feels like. Like being replaced.

And now she can sympathise with Satan.

Great.

"Meredith, it's not what you -"

"Oh my god," she gasps, sudden realisation creeping into her mind. "All these years..."

"No," he says quickly. "I didn't know, Meredith, how can you even think-"

He looks slightly hurt, that she would think of him as the kind of person who ignored his own child for almost five years, and a _very_ small part of her, the part that sometimes likes being called Mrs. Shepherd, feels bad.

"Derek."

She's standing in the doorway, but she doesn't look indecisive. "Can I speak to Meredith for a minute?"

He makes a sort of wordless sweeping gesture towards her, and she pads into the room in flannel slippers that look out of place on her feet.

She perches on a low pouf thing, eyeing Derek when he doesn't move at all.

"Alone."

He looks surprised, then worried. "Addison..."

"Just for a while. " she says, her voice casual but her eyes hard, and the silent communication between them leaves her feeling slightly left out.

He shrugs, leaving her alone with Addison, who shifts uncomfortably, looking like she would rather be anywhere else.

"She's his." she says suddenly, and it's like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders, the crushing weight of uncertainty, and for a brief second it feels like relief but the she feels oddly light, like she's drifting away, dissociating from what's happening.

"I'd want to know, right away," Addison's saying, her voice muffled in her ears like she's underwater. Or Addison is. One of them, anyway.

"So I thought I'd get that out of the way..." she trails off, looking up. _"Meredith._ "

"Yeah?" she jolts back to reality.

"He didn't know," she says firmly, slightly desperately. "You need to know...that he didn't know. About her, he's not that person, and...well, you just need to know there is no way that he would have left."

"Then _why_ ," she asks, voice trembling embarrassingly. "Did you never tell him?"

* * *

"Bet you wish you were dead right about now." Mark says, only a little maliciously.

"Yeah," he says fervently. His ex and current wives are closeted in a room together. Probably plotting the best way to kill him and dispose of the body.

"I hear the woods behind your house is a great place," Mark says casually. "Quiet. Not too many people."

And now Mark is reading his mind again. He's forgotten how close the three of them used to be.

"How do you know about my woods?" he asks, sitting down at the table as he hears telltale creaking sounds coming down the hall.

"We've been talking," Karev grins as he walks into the kitchen, wheeling a delighted Rosalyn.

"Alex is a neonatal surgeon like Mommy." she informs Mark as she's pushed up to the table.

"Yeah? Did he tell you he wanted to be a plastic surgeon like me?" Mark smiles, lifting her carefully into a booster seat.

"Really?" she cranes her neck at Alex. "Did you?"

"For a while," he says, clearly trying not to laugh at her interest. "But I thought your mom was way cooler."

She grins at this, and Mark looks discomfited.

She goes back to her soggy cereal -muesli, his four year old eats muesli - and Alex excuses himself to make a phone call.

"Who's that lady?" she asks when she's done, an adorable milk moustache decorating her face, and he's seized with the urge to take a picture but she dabs it away with her sleeve, Addison and him combined in one gesture.

"Which one?" he asks as Mark deposits the bowl in the dishwasher.

"The one I almost bumped into?"

* * *

"What was it like, growing up with Ellis Grey?" Addison asks finally, after a long tense silence.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, I met her once." she says, settling back and looking , for a moment, like she's far away, somewhere else.

"When I was - when _we_ were interns," she smiles at some memory. "She lectured about...oh, I can't remember, and I scrubbed in on some procedure with her - Derek was _so_ mad I'd stolen it - and I didn't recall, you know, until Seattle, when I met you, that I spent three days with Ellis Grey, most of them in an OR...and not once did she let on that she'd left a child in Boston. You must have been what, sixteen, maybe? So that's why I'm asking, what was it like to grow up with Ellis Grey?"

 _What was it **like**?_

It was a nanny at first and a key round her neck by the first grade, it was tucking herself in at night and bananas for dinner, it was drowning in expectations and suffocating in the guilt of being an obligation, it was pink streaked hair and tequila doused nights of escape and finally it was merciful forgetting, as she slipped away.

"Cold." she offers when it becomes clear Addison has no inclination to proceed unless she gets an answer.

"Would you want that for Zola?" she asks, and a shudder runs down her spine.

She went out and bought an actual book of nursery rhymes, devoured them the way she did anatomy texts, and she's so good now she can make some up on the spot if she needs to. She buys organic baby food and has endless discussions about diaper rash and spit up and she bends over backwards most weeks to fit her schedule around Zola's daycare. She tries, actively, every minute of every day, to not be her mother.

So no, she wouldn't want that for Zola.

"Exactly," Addison says, and she turns towards her; in the dim early light she can't quite tell if the shape of her mouth is a smile or a grimace.

"What are you trying to say?" she asks, annoyed. She's having a moment here, possibly the most momentous moment of her life, and Addison wants to discuss her _childhood_ ?

"I mean, I had a miserable childhood, yeah, I have mommy issues and daddy issues and whatever... what has all that got to do with you not telling Derek about his own daughter?"

She really does smile this time, almost pityingly. "Come on, Meredith, it has _everything_ to do with it. I'll bet you drive yourself crazy trying _not_ to be like your parents, don't you? You say you had a miserable childhood, I know a bit about that myself, so yeah, I was just ...trying not to be _my_ parents."

" _You_?" she says incredulously, a laugh bubbling up; she swallows it. "You?"

As far as she knows, Addison is the poster child of a privileged upbringing. Like, guilt inducingly privileged, the kind of _privileged_ that opens doors the rest of them don't even know exist.

She looks a little confused at the shock in her voice, so she clarifies. "Addison, my father left my mother and I when I was five."

"When I was five I caught my father screwing my nanny and didn't sleep for weeks." she says calmly.

Okay, so she wins that round.

"My mother had an affair with Richard Weber. Who left her."

" _My_ mother had an affair with her secretary. Who was also a woman. For the last twenty years, actually... they're married now." she looks slightly surprised at this, like she'd momentarily forgotten the fact.

Wow.

"Well, my mother tried to commit suicide. In front of me." she challenges. This game is pathetic, back at Joe's they call it _Whose Life Sucks The Most_ , but that doesn't mean she's not playing to win.

She always wins.

"So did mine," Addison rolls her eyes. "I wasn't exactly a child then, and I managed to save her... but I get that, too."

"My father left my mother , never tried to see me and then married another woman and had two kids that he loves."

"I spent most of my life lying to my mother about my father's affairs and then I found out _she_ was the one who cheated first and that he lived practically his whole life hoping she'd come back to him... and that _I'd_ spent all those years hating him for no reason at all." she arches one perfectly shaped brow, tucking her feet underneath her,looking like she's settling in. "We could go all day, Meredith. Or you could just, for once, accept you're not the only one who knows what you're going through."

"I get drunk and sleep with inappropriate men," she tries one last time before she realised what that sounded like. "I mean, I used to, anyway."

"Me too." Addison says, deadpan. "I mean, I used to too, but..."

"Mark was your last inappropriate guy?" she feels her lips contorting into a smile.

"Yeah."

"Okay, so we've established that you're pretty much the third twisted sister...was there a point to this?"

"Yes." Addison rolls her eyes; they could be standing in an OR, she could be frustrated at her surgical ineptitude for all the emotion her tone holds. "I was trying not to be my parents...and he would never have left."

It hits her all at once, what Addison's trying to say. "You didn't _want_ him to stay?"

"I did," she says, and her voice is impossibly soft, barely audible, she's looking down into her lap now, fidgeting with the fabric of her worn shirt. "I _wanted_ him to stay, but what you want isn't always the best thing for you and I wasn't ... I wasn't trying to hurt anyone, but I couldn't be selfish, I couldn't weigh him down like that Meredith he was _miserable,_ " she looks up now, and her eyes are dark with pain.

"He was miserable and I was hurting and you were caught up in the middle of it all, and it wasn't a place I'd want to bring a baby into, so I made a decision, and it wasn't the easiest or the best but I would still stand by it today."

* * *

"She's... my wife," he says finally, for lack of a more tactful way to explain Meredith. She is, anyway.

"And Zola's mom?" Ro asks, leaning her elbows on the table, eyes wide. "Is she sad? That Zola isn't here?"

"Yes, she is," he says carefully; she's empathetic, this tiny girl, so mature for her age...but how well is she going to take it if her mother has to leave her in order to go get Zola?

"Just like your mom would be sad if she couldn't see you," Mark explains, staring right at him.

"I'd be really sad too if I couldn't see Mommy," she says thoughtfully. "Or you, Markie."

Mark doesn't need to say _I told you so_. His face says it for him.

And then she looks at him, little forehead wrinkled in thought. "And a little bit you too."

He's saved the embarrassment of tearing up in front of Mark when his phone buzzes, and he picks it up immediately, grateful to whoever it is.

"Derek, you didn't show. Again."

Nancy sounds resigned this time, like he's proven her right about something she didn't want to be right about.

"Nance, I'm sorry, but-"

"The apocalypse is the only acceptable reason for you not being here, you little ass, do you have _any_ idea how scared she was?"

Guilt settles heavy in his stomach at the thought of his mother being...interrogated? He has no idea how any of this goes.

"They're talking about neglect, Derek," she's saying, her voice issuing tinnily from the phone, and he steps away from Mark. "Pressing charges, and stuff."

"They wouldn't," he says, wanting to calm his sister down, but deep down he knows he can't be sure.

They wouldn't...would they?

"That's not the last of it, or the worse, Derek."

"Huh?"

"She...she's been seeing Archer about it but-"

There's a piercing shriek from the kitchen, followed by the crashing sound of something being hurled against a wall, the thump of something soft hitting the ground - and then Mark is yelling for him.

* * *

 _ **Like I said, some answers and some more questions.**_

 _ **I know Addison hasn't fully justified herself yet in some of your eyes but she's getting there.**_

 _ **Hit that review button to make my heart happy and my fingers fly!**_

 _ **And as always, much love to my regular reviewers.**_


	10. ignorance is bliss

**_Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter, and all your guesses._**

 ** _So here are some answers, and more questions._**

* * *

He's rarely felt as helpless as he does now, watching tiny limbs flail in anger, shrill screams assaulting his ears, Mark trying to restrain her so she doesn't hurt herself against the floor, the walls, the counter.

"Help." he manages to grunt, but before he can unfreeze himself, Addison is shouldering him out of the way, folding herself onto the floor beside the huddled Mark and Rosalyn, murmuring soothing words as she rubs her back.

As he watches, Mark carefully releases his grasp on her arms, sliding her into Addison's lap, adjusting her leg so it doesn't jostle, sliding the hand fluttering madly against her thigh between his own, swallowing it up as he rubs soothingly.

It's orchestrated, perfectly coordinated, and they perform flawlessly like they've done it a hundred times over.

He kneels beside them, a hand rising almost of its own accord to brush back her tangled hair, and he's all too aware of Meredith's eyes on his back as Addison whispers to him.

"Get _out._ "

* * *

She's still shaking in their arms, soft keening noises escaping her tightly clenched mouth. The first time it happened she wasn't quite two, and she'd left her with a new nanny.

Mark looks drained, tracing soothing circles against the little hand he's holding.

"It hasn't been this bad. Not since-" he trails off when she cuts her eyes to Alex, still standing there, looking unsure what to do. She puts him out of his misery by jerking her head at the door.

"Ro?"

She doesn't respond, just burrows closer instead and she wraps her in her arms tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Sensory stimulation; she hasn't needed it in a while.

"I'll go tell them it's okay," Mark says after a long while of her not saying anything, just breathing slow and deep against her daughter's trembling chest, hoping to slow her ragged breaths.

Mark's right, she hasn't gotten like this since last year. Not since...

"Don't go." she chokes, and then Mark is looking at her too, his eyes probing, and it's all she can do not to scream too.

* * *

"What happened?" he demands as he strides into the office, where Meredith and Alex are sitting, looking dazed.

"I don't know, we were just talking - Sloan and me - and I said something about how I'll probably need Addison to come with me to Malawi and she... she just flipped, man, it was crazy."

"You think it's -" he can't bring himself to say the word. It's too much, heaped on top of everything else.

"Autism? Nah, she hasn't shown any other signs..." he trails off, looking thoughtful. "That I've seen, anyway."

"Karev, you pathetic-" Mark says a word that would have made Addison wince as he slams into the room. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Alex holds up a conciliatory hand. "I had no idea she's so sensitive about being away from her mom, I thought-"

"Well, you freaking thought wrong, didn't you," he growls. "In future, keep your mouth shut if you don't know the whole story, _Dr._ Karev. She's not sensitive. You don't know the story behind this. _None_ of you do. Because you haven't been around for any of it. "

"Then tell us," he snaps, pulling the heavy oak door closed and stepping in front of it. "Tell us this story you're being all secretive about, Mark, tell us why you won't let Addison go, tell us about Rosalyn. Just tell us so you can stop being so -"

"You really want to finish that sentence?"

His tone is menacing, and he's always been a little taller. But he has the upper hand here, he's Rosalyn's father, he deserves to know.

"Tell me," he pauses, thinks it over twice. Mark has never hit him before. But that was before everything, and he's never seen _this_ Mark before. But he deserves to know. "Tell me...or I'll ask Addison."

* * *

"You're going back."

It's not a question, it's a statement. And it's true.

She smooths her damp hair back, feeling her relax a little as she gains control of her emotions. "Just for a few days, baby, and I'll be right back-"

"You're a liar."

The words are flat, disaffected, none of the inflection she's inherited from her.

"Honey, Zola's all alone there. She's scared, and wants her mom. And her dad."

When she looks up from her lap, her eyes are brightest blue, sheened with tears and achingly familiar. "He's _my_ dad too."

"He is," she says cautiously.

"You never told me."

"I'm sorry I didn't, darling, but there are reasons-"

"He didn't want me?" she asks tremulously.

 _That was what I thought_.

"Ro, you'll understand when you're older. He loves you, very much."

"Do _you_ love him?"

 _From the mouths of babes..._

"I...used to. But he loves you and so do I, don't forget that."

"But I don't know if I love him, yet." She can see genuine anxiety in her eyes, and feels a pang of sympathy.

"It's all right, sweetie, you can take your time to work it out. No one's expecting you to make decisions right away, we want you to concentrate on getting better, and no matter what-" she grins at her even though it takes considerable effort to contort her muscles into shape. "- you'll always have _me_."

And she tickles her ribs, eliciting a squeal and a torrent of giggles. "Stop!"

"All okay?"

"Almost."

She grabs desperately at her hand as she slides her off her lap. "Wait, Mommy, you didn't say yes."

"To what?"

"Don't go." she implores. "Don't go, because last time you didn't come back."

* * *

"Don't." Mark says urgently. "Derek, please. Whatever you do, don't do that."

"Well, then tell me what happened, Mark." he bristles, panic heightening his senses, he's acutely aware of how close Mark is standing, the curl of his fists, the look in his eyes.

"I can't." he snaps, backing away, running his fingers through hair shorter and greyer than he's ever seen it. "She doesn't want-"

"Addison never knows what she wants."

They share a look of understanding for a minute, but then his slate eyes shutter once more, and he shakes his head. "No."

He looks at Meredith and Alex, sitting on the desk, watching them like a tennis match. "Guys-"

"Sure." Alex says immediately, sliding off the desk at once. Meredith is a little more reluctant, her eyes boring into his, and he mouths _please_.

She slams the door on the way out and it rings in the silence that falls between them.

They were friends, the three of them. Close friends, until he distanced himself and the two of them grew closer than _close_.

But they were friends, and they've been through a lot together - they're the only two who knew him from cocky med student to terrified intern to a resident finding his footing, to the surgeon he is now. They've seen the lows and the failures and the falls and the defeat before his highs, and he's seen theirs, and they know things about each other not another soul knows.

Maybe they can be friends again.

God knows he could do with some of his own.

"Mark, please," his voice is different now, shakier than he'd like it to be. "Is Addison all right?"

* * *

"We just lost our daughter," she spits, pacing furiously. "And look at him, chatting away with his old buddies like we've got all the time in the damn world.""Meredith, I don't think it's like that, there's something big Sloan's not telling us-"

"Do you think I _care_ right now, Alex, really? Do you? I'm sorry, okay, whatever, but look. Addison's in the wrong here, she kept his own kid from him for years and come on, do you really think he would have left her, if he'd known about the baby? Whatever is going on with her right now, she owes him."

"You don't know what it's like, over there." he says heatedly. "I've been there, I've seen what it can be like, and -"

"You're siding with her."

"Of course not. Just...wait, okay, wait for the whole story before you label her Satan again and run off to burn her at the stake or whatever it is."

"That makes no sense." she breathes heavily, slumping against the wall. "Neither do I, right?"

"Right."

His hand on her shoulder is warm and solid, pulling her into his shoulder as she sinks to the floor.

"She'll be all right, Mer. Everything's gonna be fine."

* * *

"I'm not leaving you," she sighs. She thought they were over this phase; she's not over it, she still wakes up sometimes with the scent of smoke in her nostrils but she thought Ro was over it.

"You did," she counters. "Last time, you did. And you _promised_ me you wouldn't ever never go back."

"Imagine," she says slowly, groping for the right words. "Being all alone in a strange new place without anyone you know, wouldn't you want someone to help you?"

"Ye-es," she says doubtfully. "But... you have to come back." she burrows closer, sniffling. "Say you'll come back really really super quick."

"Really really super extremely quick."

"Really really super extremely." she sighs. "It rhymes, Mommy. But you will, right?"

* * *

Mark slumps onto a chair, rubbing his eyes. "She is...now."

"What do you mean? She's been there before, I worked that out. And something happened... something big. Mark-"

The other man looks exhausted, sunk deep in memory. "Yeah, it was big."

"Can you tell me about it?" he asks gently, scenarios racing through his mind, each worse than the first. And then worry, for Zola, alone in the same country that haunts Mark.

And Addison, who is - however grudgingly he admits it - the strongest, most resilient person he's ever met. He used to think she was infallible. But then he got to know her, and...

"She was...broken." Mark says, his voice tortured. "For a long time she was broken and she's just gotten whole again, and I can't, I can't let her do this, Derek, what if something happens and I _know_ it's your kid on the line, I swear I understand, but -"

He stops suddenly, evidently at a loss for words. He gets up, heading to a filing cabinet on what, judging by the disarray of the desk, is his half of the office.

"Read," he says, slapping a plastic binder of like newspaper clippings and... police reports? Lab tests? into his hand.

"Read, and tell me if you can live with yourself if you send her back."

* * *

 ** _More answers in the next chapter, including issues not addressed in this one._** ** _It's scientifically proven I update faster when adequately stimulated by ... you guessed it, reviews!_** ** _So let it rip. I'd love to hear what you did - and didn't - like, what you do - and don't - want to see._**


	11. falling apart into place

**_For Luvaddek, who doesn't give up on me. Thanks!_**

* * *

"What's that."

Her voice falls flat, and his eyes flicker to her as he pulls the door shut.

"Meredith, I-"

"Don't say anything."

She feels the mattress dip as he sits down on the other side, close enough that she can hear him breathing.

Still so far away.

They're both silent, she worries at a corner of the silken sheets as she waits for him to break the silence, close the distance, do something, anything.

More like nothing.

"What's that?" she finally asks again.

"I don't know," Derek says heavily. "I don't think I want to."

She slides the file from his hands, running her fingers over the cracked spine; it's clearly been handled a lot, opened frequently, dog eared pages and frayed corners.

"Something happened." He's saying, reaching out to stop her. "Meredith."

"You have a daughter, Derek. You have a daughter but I have one too, and she's god knows where, and I'm not sure if _you_ understand-" she takes a deep breath, pretending to be unaffected by the hurt in his eyes. "-but Addison understands. And she's ready to help. All you have to do is _let_ her."

* * *

Would he have stayed? If he had known about Rosalyn- would he have stayed?

He looks at the pictures scattered on tables and walls, happy grins and smeared cheeks and sandy feet and likes to think that he would have.

And then he remembers that first year in Seattle, the constant regret and doubt and misery. And then he's not so sure.

But he likes to think that he would have stayed.

Then again, he likes to think of a lot of things.

He likes to think Zola will be theirs again. He likes to think he can, someday, have a relationship with his other child.

He likes to think Addison hasn't gone through something as frightening as what's going through his mind right now.

He likes to think that Meredith will forgive him.

"Don't ever say that," he says, low, and she looks surprised. "Don't _ever_ say I don't love Zola every bit as much as you do."

"I didn't mean it." she says, eyes welling, blinking furiously and he pulls her closer impulsively. She doesn't resist.

"I miss her." she breathes raggedly after a while. "Derek-"

He wipes tears from her cheeks, his own vision blurring. "She's okay, it's going to be okay."

"It's not, unless Addison can-" she picks up the file again, flipping it open before she loses her nerve - or he stops her.

"Derek."

"Meredith, don't."

" _Derek_."

She sounds urgent, but more than that, she sounds...shocked.

* * *

The kid is sitting up in her little wheelchair by the time he ducks back into the house, armed with a peace offering for his earlier mess-up.

"Hi Alex." she says listlessly, barely looking at him.

She's in front of the Christmas tree, lights flickering across her little face, and - with her hair pulled back in a complicated braid thing - she looks exactly like Montgomery.

"Cool tree." he says, dropping down beside her in the fake snow. Who knew Montgomery and Sloan were such saps.

"That you?" he points to a little ceramic stocking shaped thing with a picture window in, _Baby's First Christmas_ written along the curve of the toe.

"Yeah."

She's a little red haired butterball in the picture, wrapped in a knit blanket and one of those hospital caps, tiny in her mother's arms. And Sloan is standing behind the chair, one hand on the back, grinning.

These people are crazier than his family.

"I made that one," she says, perking up a little as she points to a patchily glittered globe. "Grandma helped."

Now that he notices, most of the tree is at comical odds to the silvery lights and porcelain angel perched atop it - it's mostly decorated in childishly handmade ornaments, weird looking trinkets and a substantial amount of pink tinsel.

"I like pink." she says a little defensively when she sees him looking.

"Pink is nice." he agrees, passing her the violently pink doughnut he brought her, hoping Montgomery won't flip.

"Thanks." she says around a mouthful of crumbs.

"I'm sorry," he says, wiping pink frosting from her cheek. "Your mom won't go to Africa. Not if you don't want her to."

"But-" she peeks over her shoulder. "What about Zola? If Dr. Shepherd is my dad and he's Zola's dad, isn't Zola my... my sister?"

* * *

"How did we never hear about this?"

He feels numb, fingertips buzzing, a hollow ringing in his ears, like he's just been slapped.

"I mean, something like this, it's not something that gets covered up, we would have heard about it, at least on-"

"Derek," her hand on his is gentle. Steadying.

He grasps back tightly, grounding himself as the pieces jolt into place.

The sudden decrease in her traveling.

Mark's reluctance to let her go.

Her reaction in the kitchen last night, each of them with a hand on her, shrinking back.

And now he needs her to go back.

* * *

He finds Addison curled on the couch, staring absentmindedly at the tree, where Karev and Rosalyn are sitting, having an avid discussion about oatmeal versus chocolate chip cookies for Santa.

"Chocolate chip is winning." she says quietly as he sits down beside her.

"Think it has anything to do with her pathological aversion to oatmeal?" he jokes, molding an arm around her as her head sinks onto his shoulder.

"If I go..."

"You won't be here to see the cookies." he says, twirling a lock of silky hair. "Or any of it."

"She's a baby, Mark." she whispers, not looking at him. "She's a baby and she's all alone there and-"

"I won't say no, Addie-"

He won't. She'll never forgive herself, or him, if she doesn't go.

But he won't say yes, either. He won't be the one responsible for sending her back into their worst nightmare.

"-and everything will be fine." she promises, sealing it with a kiss so soft and sweet he wants to close his arms around her, and never let go.

He draws the door softly shut, ignoring the pleading look in Mark's eyes.

They were close, the three of them. They were the best of friends, an unseparable trio.

But the operative word here is _were_. Used to be. Past tense.

Now he's mostly on the outside looking in, and the conversation he's about to have is one no one should ever have to have with someone they care about.

Someone they used to love.

"He told you."

It's a statement, not a question.

"Addie..."

"He shouldn't have told you." she whispers, and the way she's got her arms wrapped around herself makes him thinks she's right.

"But I'm glad he did." she says finally, sounding decisive. "It's all out there now, I guess."

She laughs a little, shaking her head. "I didn't want anyone to know-"

"Addison-"

Why can't he say anything else?

What _is_ he supposed to say, to someone who's been -

"I didn't want anyone to know," she says again, fiercely. "They all look at me that way, when they know."

She seems smaller, somehow, folded into a corner between two walls, hair falling into her face.

He remembers her backing away from them last night in the kitchen, the way he'd kept his fingers wrapped around her arm for just a fraction of a second after Mark had let go, and feels shame burn across his cheeks.

"What way." he manages; the words tumble out raspy and without inflection. His throat hurts suddenly, but she's utterly calm.

He recognises that curiously empty look in her eyes, flat blue marble, cool and emotionless.

He used to call it the _Montgomery look_.

The reason for it now turns his blood to ice in his veins.

"Like..." she gestures to his face. "Like that, like you're _sorry_ for me."

"I am."

Anyone would be.

"Don't." she snaps. "Don't fucking be sorry. Don't _look_ at me like that, like you're waiting for me to break."

How can she not?

He knows now, he knows words skimmed off newspaper headlines, like _foreign healthcare worker assaulted_ and _arrests made._

He has images of broken bruised flesh burned into his eyes.

He looks at the pale blank face in front of him, trying to reconcile it with the photographs he's just seen. No resemblance.

And maybe that was always their greatest problem - he was always oblivious. And she never let her pain show.

"I'm sorry." he says finally, knowing she doesn't want to hear that anymore. But he needs to say it. "Don't...don't go. You don't have to go."

"But I do," she says, raising her head at last. "I already kept one child from you too long, Derek - don't you see? I _do_ have to go."

* * *

He says goodbye to Nancy, the frustration he heard in her voice beginning to pound through his own body.

He knew. Addison knew. They still left Rosalyn with her grandmother.

Derek knew about the police. About the charges. He hasn't said anything yet.

Whose fault is it?

He knew about what happened in Malawi. He never told Derek. Addison never told Derek.

Derek wants Addison to go back.

He's not sure she can put herself back together this time.

Whose fault is it?

Derek stumbles out of the room looking... drained.

"It's hard," he says. They used to be friends, and the naked horror in Derek's eyes is enough to spark a little sympathy in the ashes.

He's had time to get used to the grim reality of what happened to her. He's made his peace.

She's learned to live with the demons.

Derek ... for him it's all new and raw.

"How did we not know?" he croaks, looking at him desperately. "I ... I said these things to her today, awful things, horrible things, and I didn't know, and Mark, how didn't I _know_ ?"

How didn't he know? The Captain has friends in high places. William White has friends in high places. She didn't want it reported.

 _I can't be that woman forever_ she pleaded with him.

And just like that, no one knew.

But it wasn't like it never happened, because it did, and it's changed her, she woke up shivering next to him six nights a week, she still jumps three feet in the air if you come up behind her and there are endless bottles of pills stacked in their bathroom.

Her daughter checks on her at night. She doesn't know what happened - _no Mark please don't she's a baby please don't let her see_ \- but she knows her mother is different now.

She can pretend all she wants, but it happened. And now Derek knows.

And now what?

"There something I need to talk to you about first," Derek says. "Mom-"

"I know, Nancy called."

But he wasn't going to hide it, he realises with a wave of relief. He was going to tell.

"She won't ... press charges, I think," he's saying cautiously, not aware of how much Derek knows. If he knows anything at all, when she pipes up from the doorway.

"She won't."

Derek swivels around, and he sees his expression change involuntarily, that shadow of worry cross his face the way it used to cross his in the first few weeks after the attack.

He sees the look of annoyance flit across Addison's face in response, but she conceals it perfectly. Like she always does.

"There's something we should probably tell you." she says gently; leave it to her to turn the tables lightning-quick, have someone else be the victim before she has to bear that title too long.

Then the doorbell rings, and there are shrieks of delight echoing from the foyer.

"Hi, Uncle Archer!"

* * *

 ** _Do you like cliffhangers?_**

 ** _I LOVE cliffhangers._** ** _I swear I'll update faster than this , and you know what I'm going to say next...reviews! Please?_**

 ** _A lot of you are annoyed with Addison in this fic - that's my point. She always made decisions based on what suited her at the time; she's an unadmittedly selfish character at times on both shows. Although she has her reasons in this fic, I don't think she's ever going to fully redeem herself. Sorry._**

 ** _And Derek is an oblivious self centered are at the best of times, so that's how he is in this fic, if not as much in this chapter._**

 ** _And Mark, I believe, is an impulsively bad decision maker whose heart is in a good place, but just get overridden by, ahem, other body parts. But he's always stepped up when someone he loved really needed him, and as we all know he was an awesomesauce father with Sofia._**

 ** _All that said and done, none of them are going to be perfect._** ** _And for the big reveal... yes, it's MerDer, and yes it's Maddison, but mostly it's Maddek which is better than any pairing. Ever._**

 ** _Review please?_**


	12. strangers we knew so well

**_Happy Sunday!_**

* * *

" And then he showed me my X rays," Rosalyn chatters happily, oblivious to fact that none of the adults are really listening to her.

Maybe she gets that from him.

Anyway, they're not listening to her, instead they're looking at each other because really, it's been a horrific two days, filled with realisations and revelations and words that his exhausted mind can't even dredge up right now but _this_ , this is the singular most weird thing that has ever happened to him.

Ever. Period.

He doesn't even care that he sounds like one of his prepubescent nieces right now - in his mind, anyway, oh god he's having a conversation with himself in his _mind_ he's really going insane - because this. Cannot. Be. Happening.

There he goes again.

Addison gives him an apologetic little smile, shrugging half heartedly.

Mark just grins at him, and as he walks past him to greet the couple in the foyer, he whispers _bet you wish you'd stuck around, huh?_

Well, sticking around might _almost_ been worth it to see _this_.

* * *

The look on Derek's face is absolutely priceless.

And also the look on Archer's face when he sees Derek.

God, Addison's family is fun.

"Hey Archer." he says, peeling Ro's hands off his knee so he take his coat off. "Hi Nae."

"Is he sleeping? He's always sleeping." Ro asks, trying to peer into Naomi's arms; she bends a little so she can see.

"He's a baby, sweetie, so he sleeps a lot. You used to sleep a lot too when you were that little."

"Not nearly enough," Addison grumbles, smiling as she takes the baby from Naomi.

"How's the prodigal nephew?" she coos, kissing a velvety little cheek. "Oh my god, Archer, Bizzy was right, he _does_ have your nose,-"

Archer is staring at Derek, who's staring at him while Meredith whips her head back and forth between them and Alex just looks ready to bolt out the still-open front door, although he'd have to get through Addison and Naomi to do it, because they're still in the middle of the foyer discussing the baby's bowel movements while Rosalyn screeches to be allowed to hold him.

Well, at least no one can accuse them of being boring.

"You're ... _married_?" Derek says finally, when they're all in the living room and Rosalyn has finally been allowed to hold the baby, cradling one hand expertly under his neck, and it's quiet enough to hear themselves think. "To _Naomi_?"

"Hi to you too, Derek." the woman says, rolling her dark eyes. "I missed you. _S_ _o_ much."

"Back off, Nae." Addison mutters, looking uncomfortable.

"Well, it would appear that you, too, are married. Again." the man called Archer says coolly. "Not sure how wise that is." he adds, looking right at her and Derek glowers at him.

"Well, I'm not the one who had a reputation as an unrepentant-"

"Kids in the room!" Naomi squawks, covering his description of Archer.

"- for the whole time I knew you, so forgive me for being shocked that you found someone to put up with you." Derek finishes.

"You do realise I'm right here, right?" Naomi mutters, and Addison and she share a glance she's not sure she understands.

She's not sure she really understands anything that's happened in the last two days. Least of all her husband.

"They're all officially loony tunes." Alex hisses at her, and Rosalyn looks up instantly.

"Ooh, can I watch Looney Tunes? Please mom?"

God, it's like she's part bat or something. Derek's never that sharp, she probably gets it from Addison.

Addison sends a glare their way that lets her know she's worked out what they were talking about; Alex remains impressively unruffled even as she can feel her cheeks burning. Maybe it's all the training he had all those years ago when she still worked at Seattle Grace.

"Why don't you go see if it's on?" she suggests, and as Rosalyn speeds away, she opens her mouth, shuts it again, and finally yells "Half an hour!" at her daughter's retreating back.

"TV won't fry her brain, Addie," Naomi says, and Archer guffaws.

"She gets it from Bizzy."

"Do _not_." Addison snaps, kicking him in the ribs. Who would have known. Satan has a brother. And they have a normal sibling relationship.

"You even said it like her." Archer is still laughing, mocking his sister in that slightly nasal voice of his. _"Half an hour._ "

"Archer, I swear, -"

"Baby!" Naomi reminds them.

"It's okay, the kid's heard worse." Archer grunts. "Haven't you, Gabriel?"

The last part is surprisingly sweet, and Derek's eyes just about fall out of his head.

"And you have a _kid_ ," he muses. "Archer-"

"And I even stuck around for him." Archer says, raising an eyebrow and in that moment he looks exactly like Addison. "Which is more than I can say for you."

"Archie, don't be awful," Addison hisses. "It's hardly his fault-"

"You're my sister, of course it's his fault." Archer scowls, but he backs off.

"Stupid question, but...where's Sam?" Derek asks weakly. "I feel like I've gone through a time warp or something."

And so she's still here half an hour later, butt numb, still unintroduced to the new strangers, except now she knows that Naomi and Sam got divorced four years ago and Maya is at Columbia (premed!) and Olivia is almost four now and Dink _(Dink? Seriously?)_ has her every other weekend because really, who gets married at fifteen?

All of which is very nice, but she has no idea who Maya or Sam or Olivia or Dink _are_.

* * *

Archer has _always_ had the absolute worst timing.

There's a reason she never had a serious boyfriend before college.

And true to character, he's here now, just when she was about to break the news to Derek, gently and kindly, which is how someone like Derek needs to be told things, or else he can't handle them. Eleven years of marriage to him taught her that, at least, and the news she was going to give him is, well, _horrible_.

And now Archer is going to horn in like he always does, loud and insensitive, and ruin everything.

So she takes advantage of Rosalyn's temporary absence and Gabriel's peaceful looking slumber to ask him, discreetly, is she can talk to him for a minute, flapping her hand at Mark to follow them; she's not sure he sees it, but Meredith does, sliding narrow-eyed out of her chair to follow them into the office.

She doesn't stop her- she's married to Derek, after all, she's the one who'll deal with the inevitable fallout.

"I can't believe your brother got married." Derek says as soon as they're safely shut in. "And to Naomi, of all people..."

"You'd know that if you'd ever bothered to call anyone in the last five years." Mark says, but without malice. The way they used to, harmless banter.

"Wait," Derek says, frowning. "You said Archer was-"

"Derek, I need to tell you something." she says before he can finish. "Maybe you should sit down?"

"Is that a question?" he asks, studying her intently. "Addison, I've had enough _something_ to last a lifetime."

 _Haven't we all?_

She looks to Mark for assistance, something she's loathe to admit she needs, but right now...well, right now what's important is that Derek knows.

"Sit," Mark orders, shoving him unceremoniously and she's reminded of med school study sessions. "Stay."

"What is it?" Meredith asks curiously.

Poor thing. She signed on for the Shepherd Experience but what she's getting is probably _way_ more than she bargained for.

"It's about Carolyn," she starts, and then Mark's hand is on her shoulder, strong and steadying; she takes a deep breath. "Derek, she has Alzheimers."

* * *

There's a dull roar in his ears, like rushing water, he can't hear clearly.

Because Addison just said _she has Alzheimers_.

She's got to be wrong.

"Archer diagnosed her about three months ago," she's saying, and Mark's hand is on her shoulder, gripping. Meredith's hand is cool and firm around his; he squeezes back.

"Archer?"

"He's sure." she says, before he can continue. "He made sure, before he told us. And she was going to tell you, but then with th trial getting ... you know, and she wanted to tell you in person, so -"

Of course he's sure. His ex-brother-in-law may be an ass of monumental proportions, but he's a brilliant neurologist.

"I want to see the reports." he says, and he can see Meredith start to say something through the corner of his eye.

"Of course," Addison says smoothly. "I asked him to bring them, actually."

Of course she did. She probably knew what he was going to say before he said it.

She leaves the room to find her brother, and Mark swallows almost nervously.

"Derek, I'm.."

"Don't say it." he exhales roughly, like he can breathe out the emotion constricting his chest.

"She's..she's my mother too." Mark says fiercely. "I care."

He looks up at him, surprised. "Of course you do, I didn't mean that-"

"Saying it makes it real." Meredith says softly.

Exactly.

His mother has Alzheimers. Meredith's mother had Alzheimers. _She_ might get Alzheimers.

His Alzheimers trial...well, that's why they're even here in the first place.

It's why their daughter isn't here. It's shy he knows about his other daughter. The one thing that could save his mother is the one thing he can no longer do.

Everything is going in circles, inexorably connected to everything else, like dominoes, and he has the feeling that one of them is about to topple.

* * *

"Addie looks better," Naomi is muttering feverishly. "She looks better, don't you think? Archer. Archer, are you even listening?"

God, the woman is unstoppable when she gets going.

But she's right, Addison does look like human, instead of a - well, he won't say that out loud.

"Why's Derek here?" he asks curiously, walking in circles around the room so that their son won't wake up.

"Something about Zola - their daughter," she explains. "The adoption didn't go through, something about Derek's botched Alzheimers trial-"

"Yeah, I heard about that."

He was grudgingly impressed by the direction the trial was going in, and when he heard through the grapevine that it had somehow derailed...well, he wasn't really surprised. Derek Shepherd does tend to ruin everything.

"And she's been deported back to Malawi."

And it all starts to fall back into place.

"Oh, no. Absolutely no. She can't, Naomi, you know she can't."

"Archer, "

"Don't Archer me," he says, voice rising slightly. "You saw what it was like, the last time-"

"I was _there_!"

 _Fat lot of good that did_ he wants to say, but it wasn't her fault. Not really.

"And you still think it's a good idea?"

"It was horrible, Archer, what happened to her was horrible and I get that but it wasn't the norm! It's not what happens every single time to anyone who goes there, and it's their _baby_ we're talking about."

"And what about Ro? She's his daughter too, he has no idea how scares she was last time, you think she'll be okay with her mother jetting off to Africa again? That she isn't going to be terrified it'll happen again?"

"It doesn't have to. It _won't_."

"Archie, shut up." Addison snaps, walking back in. "We can hear you all the way down the hall."

"You're not going." he says immediately.

Gabriel is squirming in his arms now, starting to scrunch up his nose the way he does before he lets out a wail, and she scoops him out of his arms, rocking gently.

"You dont have to go, Addison, it's none of your business."

"I haven't listened to you since I was ...five, and you told me my loose tooth meant I was dying, Archer, what makes you think I'm going to start now?"

"This isn't the Tooth Fairy we're talking about, Addie, you could actually die-"

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine." she sneers.

"You nearly did the last time!" he snarls.

She'll never know what it was like, that night, waiting and waiting and _waiting_ at that goddamn airfield, not knowing, heart pounding in terror. Explaining to a three year old why her mother can't see her.

Not today, not this week.

"Stop yelling!"

" _You're_ yelling!"

"I'm going." she says, turning away. Typical.

"No you're not-"

"Yeah I am."

"What the hell for, Addison? It's not your kid, not your obligation-"

"They can _hear_ you down the hall-"

" _They_ don't know the whole story, I bet-"

"They know enough."

"If Derek knew enough, he wouldn't be letting you do this, he might be a loser husband but he's a pretty decent guy-"

"Oh, so _now_ you say that-"

"Who wouldn't be letting you go back-"

"You are honestly so petty, Archer, it's been _years_ since the divorce and you're still-"

"If he knew about the rape." he finishes, breathing hard, and he looks over Addison's suddenly sagging shoulder to see Derek staring at him.

Well, shit.

* * *

 ** _Hi! I know I haven't updated in like a week, so sorry about that. This was mostly to answer some questions and to provide a bit of...comic relief, since or was starting to get a little angsty._**

 ** _Not that I'm trivialising the issue of rape or any kind of assault. Please tell me if I need to include some trigger warnings._**

 ** _And also please review!_**


	13. let go of the things you love

**_Hi_** ** _!_**

 ** _As always, thanks to my regular reviewers; you guys are the BEST._**

* * *

"Can I come in?"

She's standing in the half-darkness, turned away from him, something large and misshapen in her hands. Her face is inscrutable, molding into a smile when she looks at him but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Those eyes, the empty raw despair in the photographs he cannot unsee. The ones he's not sure she wanted him to see.

"Yeah."

It's a single word, carried out on an exhale, so soft he barely hears it.

"What..what are you doing?" he asks, although it's clear.

"Packing." she says lightly, dropping the object in her hands- it's a jacket, he sees now, thick and with large pockets, unlike the carefully tailored garments he's always associated with her. "We leave in a few hours, Naomi's arranging the jet-"

"Addison, please."

"I'm going, aren't I? Derek, stop begging, it really doesn't suit you."

She's burrowing in her closet again; he can see rows and rows of neatly ordered shoes, hangers all facing the right way, and he remembers with a pang the plastic tubs she stacked outside his trailer a lifetime ago.

She made herself small, cramped herself into his trailer, for him.

And now she's doing it again.

"That's not what I was asking, Addison," he says gently, reaching for her but he remembers his conversation with Mark and steps back. "I meant...please _don't_ go."

She barks a laugh, stepping out into the dim light so he can see her better, eyes very bright in her pale face.

He knows that expression. It means that nothing and no one is stopping her now.

"You didn't used to give up this easily, Derek," she says. "You're going soft."

"I'm not giving up on her, I - Karev can go, we can try to appeal from here, we can-"

"Lose your daughter." she says flatly. "Derek. You don't know anything about this, okay? I do. It's faster if I go, I can be back in three days, it's _nothing-_ "

"It's not nothing," he hisses, and his hands are on her shoulders, gripping firmly like he can actually drive sense into her. "It's not nothing, Addison, I can't - I don't want you going back."

She yanks herself back, hands flying across her chest instantly, and for a moment her eyes are bottomless black, a thin ring of blue around terrified pupils.

"Sorry," he says immediately. "God, Addison. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - but look what I mean, you can't handle me touching you, and you want to go back to where you were-"

"Shut up."

She's in his face now, speaking low and very fast. " You know me. You used to know me, Derek, and maybe, maybe you wish you _hadn't_ but you did, and I don't give up." her voice is trembling, but her fingers digging into his arms are strong. "I hate this, what I've become, what my life has become, what-"

Her voice cracks, and she sucks in a deep breath, rocking back on her heels, releasing him. "What they've made me. I hate it. I hate that I'm depriving Mark of what he wants because he loves me, he's done everything for me, he's been there through all of it, I hate that my daughter worries about me, I hate that I can't walk home alone at night and I can't have anyone touch me, I hate all of it."

She's throwing things into her bag now, something with multiple zippers and straps, dark green. "I need to just...I don't know, get over with it, go back there and see for myself that they didn't ...break me, or whatever, that I'm still me and -"

"Will you _listen_ to yourself?" he demands, voice rising slightly even though he doesn't move closer and even that stiffens her posture. "How the hell doesn't throwing yourself right back into the middle of all that going to _help you_ ?"

She turns on him, something glittering and metallic in her hand, a fierce gleam in her eyes he's never seen before and this time he's the one who steps back.

"Look at this. Pepper spray. You can carry the damn pepper spray and they still come after you." she flings it back into the bag, pulls out another. "Bug repellent. You can slather yourself in this crap and they still bite, you can take the vaccines and learn how to throw a right hook and you can still get sick and they can still grab you. Nothing _helps_ , Derek, nothing is one hundred percent. I need this. I need the ...closure, or whatever, I need to know that I can still go wherever I want to and that _they_ don't get a say in my life anymore."

* * *

"She's going, isn't she."

It's a statement, not a question. His voice sounds small, scared, not the voice of the man in front of him, holding a sleepy baby and blinking desperately.

"She's going." he replies, watching Archer shift his son slightly so he can lean back without waking him.

He turns into his father's chest, tiny fists curling next to chubby rosy cheeks and he feels a sudden rush of longing.

Ro used to do that too, he remembers, she always slept with her little hands curled by her face, splayed like a starfish under her blankets. She used to snuggle into his neck, when he picked her up in the middle of the night when she was fussing or hungry or needed a change or he just missed her - Addison would kill him if she knew but he's guilty of picking her up sometimes just because he missed that gummy smile, her trusting eyes.

Even later, in the hospital, when they had to maneuver around tubes and wires to hold her, soothe her, she curled into them, seeking warmth. And then she got bigger - "I'm _four_ "she says indignantly when they wrap their arms around her.

They were talking about it, before. More than a year ago now. Before she left.

They could have done it. The whole thing, the golden dream. The idyll. Rings, another baby. Coming clean to Derek. It was all supposed to be that year.

Until, of course, the thing they never really speak about happened - he realises with a jolt that until Archer's outburst earlier the word hasn't been said aloud, not in their home - and then they had a lot of other things to think about.

 _A boy_ she had said, almost shy. Like her and Archer.

He said that he wanted a girl, though, another redhead. One who could call him Daddy instead of Markie, one he could love guiltlessly.

Oh, he loves Rosalyn. He'd do anything for her. Walk on fire, give a limb. He carries her on his shoulders in the park and takes her to games, tucks her in at night with endless stories and soothes any number of night terrors. He wears sparkly tiaras and drinks countless cups of pretend tea, sings songs about animated characters he never remembers the names of, sneaks her out of daycare on his time off.

But Derek will always be her Daddy. And he'll be Markie.

It's not her fault, he reasons. They agreed, early on, what his role would be. She was hours old, tiny, precious. He was mostly in awe of her, her clear blue gaze, her determined grip, to really hear Addison's exhausted voice.

He watched her put _Shepherd_ on the birth certificate. He watched her child get sick. Sicker. Have surgery. Get better. He watched her decide, time and time again, that it's wasn't time yet.

If there's one thing she does better than surgery... it's procrastinate. She's excellent at it.

Something she doesn't want to talk about? _Not now_.

Something she doesn't want him to know? _Doesn't matter_.

Except for now. Now, she's ...decisive. Collected, determined. He hasn't seen her this focused since before the... assault.

It's good, right?

"Hold him a minute," Archer says, moving Gabriel into his lap. "I have to talk to Nae."

He can hear Naomi walking up and down outside, footsteps fast and angry like her voice on the phone.

No, she doesn't understand. It's their jet. Find a pilot - no she doesn't care where. So what if it's Christmas.

What wasn't she this efficient when it happened?

But that, he thinks to himself, bouncing the baby as he starts to fuss, is something else they don't talk about.

* * *

"I don't want to be that person."

"You're not, okay?" Alex sighs, frustrated. He kicks insolently at the edge of the rug, curling over his foot. "She's making her own decisions here, it's not your fault. She wants to go - she's going."

Naomi's footsteps march past the door again, a second set following them, heavier and slower.

"Derek's trying to talk her out of it."

"This is Montgomery we're talking about," he raises an eyebrow. "Sorry,but my guy trumps yours when it comes to being stubborn."

* * *

"I want... I want her to call me, okay? At least twice a day. Make sure she has a decent cell. And-"

"Archer," she snaps, annoyed, waving a hand at her ear. "I'm on the phone."

He dawdles in the hallway, listening to the sound of cartoons drifting from the office.

They used to watch, on Sunday mornings. There was a set in the nanny's rooms, away from the living room where they weren't supposed to be when there were guests over.

He remembers striped flannel pajamas, sugary cereal, high pitched giggles. He watched long after he'd outgrown the bright characters, the bubblegum storylines, keeping her company. She used to be happy, that one hour each week before she grew up and realised that it almost never turns out okay.

She's asleep when he walks into the office, remote dangling precariously from her fingers, breathing deeply.

 _She looks_ _so much like Addie._

He kneels carefully in front of her, easing a few wayward strands out of her face, smoothing them back like he didn't know how to do years ago.

He loved her, always did. He protected her the best he could, took the worst of the affairs and the lies and the secrets before they could taint her.

But it happened anyway. Shepherd happened. the affair and the divorce and the surgeries and hospitals and Malawi happened.

She's darker now.

"Uncle Archer?"

Her voice is sleepy, confused; he lifts her easily before she tries to get off the couch herself.

"Easy, you don't want to move that leg too much."

"Will it be better by Christmas?"

Her head lolls against his chest, the effect of the medications combined with the exhaustion of the past two days. "No, but it will get better, and then we can go out riding again."

"Will Bizzy come?" she inquires, slightly more awake now. "She likes riding too."

"Sure."

It confused him at first, the relationship between his niece and his mother; the mother of their childhood was chilly, eschewing most forms of interaction with her children.

As a grandmother, though... well, he never thought he'd see the day Bizzy Forbes finger painted.

"Hi ...Dad?"

He's closing the door to Addison's room behind him, a look of resignation on his face.

"Derek," he says evenly.

"She won't... she won't listen." he mutters, eyes darting to Ro. "Hey, sweetie."

"I'll just get this little madam to bed," he says. The less she hears, the better. "And we can talk downstairs."

He's just got the covers tucked around her to her exact specifications, stuffed animals arranged, curtains drawn, when she touches his hand, a curiously adult gesture, her hand whisper soft against his.

"She's coming back, right?"

Her eyes are round and anxious, the blue of a thousand nightmares he's soothed his sister through when they were kids.

"She's coming back?"

* * *

 ** _Review please?_**

 ** _I know you have a lot of questions... I promise I'll update soon!_**


	14. let me hold your hand

_**Happy Sunday!**_

* * *

"I want Mommy," she whimpers, and he's not sure what hurts more, her broken whimper or the look on Mark's face.

"Sweetheart, Mommy left this morning, remember?" he says soothingly, tucking sweat dampened hair behind her ears.

It was snowing lightly, barely dusting the pavement, when they left; he watched Addison creep into their daughter's room and kiss her goodbye, small hands fisting in to her shirt, and he had to turn away.

"Why isn't she back yet?" she's asking now, her voice small and tremulous. "She said she was going to be back."

"Ro, you know it takes time to get to Africa. She'll be back in three days. You know that, now please, just open your mouth and take this."

He's a little taken aback at Mark's firm tone, ready to step in if she starts crying, but she stares at him for a few seconds, eyes teary and blue, and then opens her mouth, obediently swallowing the medicine he tips down her throat.

She takes the little pink tumbler from him when he holds it to her lips though, clutching with both hands as she drinks.

"Good girl." Mark says softly, dropping a kiss on her head. "Do you feel like getting dressed now? Grandma's coming over today, remember?"

"We're making cookies." she says, brightening a little.

"Hey Mark?" Archer's voice echoes up the stairs, nervous and a little shaky. "Could you, uh-"

"Coming." Mark rolls his eyes at him, getting up from the tiny wicker chair he was perched on.

"Could you make sure she's dressed in fifteen minutes?" he whispers as he walks past. "She's worse than Addison sometimes."

This, he thinks privately ten minutes later, was something of an understatement, because Rosalyn is still standing in front of her wide - open closet in her cheery yellow pajamas, hands propped on her hips, pouting.

It's ordered with military precision, as he remembers Addison's clothes being, little shoes along racks on the floor, color coordinated dresses and shirts on hangers that all face the same way, neatly folded pants and skirts...and yet she can't find anything to wear.

"Why not these again?" he asks, holding up a pair of jeans with some sort of flower on the pocket.

"Because," she says with all the patience of someone speaking to a particularly dull child. "I want to wear _this_."

She holds up a cream sweater with a large red-nosed reindeer on it, not the color he'd like her to wear in the kitchen, but she seems adamant - it's _Christmas_ , she reminds him - and so he agreed.

It's so much easier with Zola, he thinks; he can just throw whatever on her and the only person glaring will be Meredith.

Right now, Rosalyn is glaring at him, obviously irritated by his slowness.

"Reindeer and flowers don't go together." she says finally, and he makes a noise like he understands.

"Everything okay in here?" Meredith asks brightly, popping her head into the room.

She looks cheerful, but he knows her well enough to know it's forced; he could feel her tossing and turning all night as he lay awake but she made no move to speak.

Neither did he, but when he woke up after a few hours fitful sleep, she was curled into his side and his shirt was damp.

"No," he says quickly, out of his daughter's earshot. "It's not. She's the fashion police, Mer, you've _got_ to help me here before Mark comes back up and tells me I'm a terrible father."

She rolls her eyes at him, walking over to the little girl standing in front of her closet. "Why don't you go help Mark with breakfast and I'll help Ro pick an outfit."

He's not sure who's more surprised by this, himself or Ro, who looks up at Meredith and then quickly back down again.

The most interaction he's seen them have is when they passed in the hallway and Ro's chair bumped Meredith; she said _sorry_ in a squeaky little voice and Meredith said _it's_ _okay_ but she didn't really sound like it was.

He can't really fault Meredith for that, he supposes, he was floored when he realised he had a child - _has_ had a child for the last four, almost five years, and he can only imagine what it's like for her, losing her own baby and discovering her husband has a secret daughter.

He's still deep in thought as he wanders into the kitchen, only to be startled by the sight of Archer and Gabriel in there, the latter clad in just a diaper and even though the kitchen is warm, he frowns at Archer.

"We had an...incident, with the diaper." Archer says weakly. "That's why I called Mark."

"What he means is he's a wuss who can't deal with a blowout diaper," Mark sniggers, ladling batter into a waffle iron.

"I can't believe Nae left me here with him." he's muttering, trying to wedge a tiny striped sock onto his sons' squirming foot. " I mean, what am I supposed to _do_?"

"Be his father?" he asks, pouring himself a mug of coffee, hoping it will stop his wildly spinning head.

Then again, _Mark Sloan_ is cooking breakfast while _Archer_ attempts to parent his own child, his wife is upstairs dressing his daughter he didn't even know he had. Caffeine is barely going to cut it.

"I'm good at playing with him, and stories, and...stuff." Archer grouches; he takes pity on him and lifts the wriggling baby onto the table so he can tug the little pants over his kicking legs. "Thanks. I'm not good at the actual stuff, like poop."

Gabriel shrieks in agreement, banging the spoon in his hand against the table.

"Careful," Mark yelps. "Dent that table and Addison will dent you."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Archer demands. "It's like he's an octopus, I can't get his clothes on."

"You suck." Mark informs him, pulling a shirt over the tiny head in one smooth motion.

"How'd you do that without catching his thumbs?" Archer asks, staring at Mark with something approaching awe.

"Maybe you could figure it out on your own if you did it once in a while."

"That's what God made nannies for." Archer says, leaning back in his chair, apparently relaxed now that his child is dressed and quiet. "Hey. Gabe, no. _No_. Don't put it in your mouth."

"And look how you turned out." he says, and Mark laughs.

"By extension, Addison too." Archer reminds them, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, Addie is a freak of nature who somehow missed most of the Montgomery genes," Mark says cheerfully, shoving a bowl of fruit and a knife at him while Archer splutters indignantly.

* * *

The child almost seems nervous in her presence, fidgeting with the cuffs of her pajama top, toes digging into the carpet.

"What's the matter, honey?" she asks, sitting on her knees beside her.

It's hardly Rosalyn's fault her father never knew about her, that her mother kept her a secret. She's just a baby, caught up in their mess, a baby who's hurt and misses her mother and is probably terrified she isn't coming back.

And it's sort of her fault she's there in the first place, so she can't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt as she takes a small hand in hers.

It's warm - a little too warm, she spiked a fever shortly after her mother left and Mark says it's stress, her body reacting to the trauma, but she's worried. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright, and she seems a little sweaty.

She remembers a not - too-long ago night spent with Zola, rocking and bouncing and pacing endlessly while her feverish child cried. It was like nothing could soothe her, no amount of cuddling or kisses or lullabies, and finally she'd made an exhausted, desperate 3 am phone call to Alex, who suggested...

"How about a bath?" she asks tentatively, not wanting to push.

She seems to be considering it, though, looking at her from under Derek's lashes, chewing thoughtfully on the ends of her long hair. "Okay."

It's easy to fill the tub with its colorful fish-printed mat, find a bottle of bubble bath in a plastic basket, which has an insane number of bottles stacked in neat rows, and pick up a towel from the fluffy stack beside the door.

What's hard is her leg, she muses, consider how best to let her take a bath while keeping it dry - a shower is firmly out of the question, by the response she received when she asked - and she can't find a stool for her except the little wooden stepstool in front of the sink, which obviously doesn't belong in the water.

"Look under the sink." Ro calls to her from where she's lounging on her bed, reading a book she'spretty sure isn't standard four-year-old fare.

She does as she's told, finding a roll of clear plastic strips and a box of clips.

Addison may not be Satan, buy she's certainly not human. No one is this organised.

"Okay," she says with false confidence, which Ro might have picked up on, because she doesn't look so sure. "Let's get you wrapped up."

It takes a while to wrap her skinny little leg in the plastic and anchor it safely with the clips, but she's pretty sure she's done a watertight job. She slips a finger under the edge to make sure, and the sight of her chipped pink toenails tugs at her heart.

"Want me to fix those for you?" she asks, and Rosalyn nods vigorously.

"Mommy was going to fix it," she says softly. "But then she had to go-"

The next words hit her like a gale-force wind. "-and you asked her to."

 _She's a baby._

"Let's take it off now, and I'll paint them for you when you're out of the bath." she decides, realising she has no idea where to find nail polish remover or cotton or anything else.

"In the medicine cabinet," Ro supplies. "In Mommy's bathroom."

She feels like an intruder in here, tiptoeing past the bed with its rumpled sheets - Mark doesn't seem to have had the time - into the bathroom, eyes skittering over the framed photographs on the walls, tables, showing a happier Addison, a younger Rosalyn, a Mark without deep worry lines etched on his face.

 _Will they ever look like that again?_

She shakes the feeling as she steps into the master bathroom, scanning the walls for the medicine cabinet.

It's set into a wall beside a vanity; the lights, when she flips them on, are blindingly bright and she tries not to look at the messy hair and eye bags she sees reflected back at her.

You can tell a lot about people from what you find in a medicine cabinet, and she feels even more intrusive as she goes through bottles of aspirin and antacids and painkillers, Ro's meds, vitamins, cough syrup. Condoms. Birth control. There's glass jars of Q tips and cotton pads, but she can't find any nail polish remover.

She's just shifted aside a first aid kit that wouldn't be out of place in an ER - _surgeons_ \- when she sees the small white bottle, and she doesn't need to be a surgeon to recognise the name.

What it's for.

What it means.

"Ah, the Truvada," Mark says lightly behind her. She whirls around, still clutching the bottle, and the pills rattle. "Haven't seen that in a while."

"I -I'm sorry, I was looking for some-"

"It's fine," he says tightly, teeth bared in what he clearly intends to be a smile. "I didn't even know she still had them here. It's not your fault, you weren't snooping...unless you were."

He grins cheekily, but she notices he's staunchly refusing to look at the bottle in her hand. "Mark..."

"Drop it."

"Should I ...put them back?" she asks, feeling stupid. There's no use for these now, but Addison kept them. She must have had a reason.

"Her six month test was clear." he says suddenly, the words rushed, pressured, like he needs to get them off his chest. "It was clear, but she's ..."

"Anyone would be nervous." she says gently. Her own heart is still pounding, blood rushing in her ears. It's every doctor's worst nightmare, an errant needle, a shaky hand, a popped glove. But you choose the job. You know the risks. You know how to prevent it.

What happened to Addison is _anyone's_ worst nightmare. And no one could have seen it coming.

"She kept some here," Mark is still talking, looking anywhere but at her. "In her purse, in her office, she didn't want to miss a dose. She timed them to the minute."

"She's smart to have done that."

He knows this. Of course he does.

"They made her sick," he says reminiscently, his hands moving vaguely in front of him. "She was miserable, but-"

"Anything's better than not taking them," they both say at the same time and Mark lets out a dry laugh. "Clearly."

"I'm sorry." she blurts. It's stupid, pointless, and it hangs heavily in the air between them.

"Yeah, me too." he mutters, reaching beyond her for a box of bandaids. "Me too."

She's still shaken when she gets back to Rosalyn's room, clutching the finally-located bottle of remover and a handful of cotton pads.

"What took so long?"

It's not rude, just curious. "Couldn't find it." she says, pasting a smile on as she sits on the bed next to her. "Give me your toes."

She turns out to be ticklish, squirming while she dabs gently, but she doesn't make a sound except to say a stiff, formal _thank you_ when she's done.

"The water's cold by now," she realises, and by the time she's drained the tub and turned the tap back on Rosalyn has managed to unbutton her top and wiggle out of her pants.

"I can do it." she says flatly as Meredith reaches out to help her.

"I know you can." she sighs. "Just...sometimes, it's okay to let someone help, okay?"

She gives her a long look, sizing her up. "Okay?"

"Can I help?"

She nods slowly.

"Thank you." she helps her step out of the pants, folding them neatly on the bed. She averts her eyes - she seems to expect it - as she lifts her into the tub, and she settles against the edge, closing her eyes as she ignores the myriad bath toys bobbing in the water.

"Tired?"

"Kinda."

She doesn't really want to leave her alone, so she sits on the cold floor, dabbling a hand in the strawberry bubbles. Rosalyn's long hair is trailing into the water, the ends darkening as they soak, and she reaches for a bottle of shampoo.

"Not that one."

"Huh?"

"Not that one." she repeats, more clearly this time, and she's sees a truce in her eyes. "The other one, please."

She hands her a bottle that pours out candy - scented froth, and she massages it gently through her hair, tilting her head back like she does with Zola to keep the bubbles out of her eyes.

"You know," she says almost conversationally. "When I'm tired, or upset, I like to take baths too. And my little girl,"

"Zola."

"That's right, Zola. When she's sick, she likes baths too."

"My mom went to Africa to get Zola." she says.

"Yes."

There's a long silence, and she watches Ro swipe at a clump of bubbles, tearing them apart and watching them fizz into the water.

"Does she like strawberry bubble bath?"

"It's her favorite." she breathes, bracing for... tears? Anger? She certainly has the right. Meredith and Derek and Zola are the reason her mother isn't here right now.

"There isn't strawberry bubble bath in Malawi, probably." she says finally. "Maybe we can share, when she comes back. Because she's my sister, right?"

She peeks up at Meredith through a cap of bubbles, and she wants nothing more to scoop the wet soapy slippery little girl into her arms and hug the living daylights out of her. "Right."

"And we can do this," she giggles suddenly, a pure sound, tinkling like bells in the tiled bathroom as she splashes a warm wave over Meredith, soaking her clothes and she gasps with laughter, splashing back.

They look at each other for a moment, surprised at the departure from the terse mood, and then they're splashing at each other again, giggles bouncing off the walls, until Ro shrieks with delight.

It takes Mark about ten seconds to materialise in the doorway, panting slightly.

"What the hell?"

"Hell is a bad word." Rosalyn reprimands, although the effect of her stern tone is somewhat diminished by her bubble beard.

"That's a quarter for your swear jar, then." Mark says distractedly. "Meredith."

She follows him into the bedroom, standing on the mat so she won't drip all over.

"Sorry." she manages, trying to wipe the bubbles off her shirt. "I'll clean up."

"No, not that - thanks." he says abruptly. "For ... you know. You made her laugh."

"I made her laugh." she agrees. "She's a great kid, Mark. Don't worry so much."

"Yeah."

Derek appears in the room too, puffing and sporting a bandaid on his finger. "What? What happened? Is she okay? Is - Meredith? why are you all wet?"

"You can't come in here," Ro yells from the bathroom. "You're a _man_."

"Keep saying that till you're thirty and you should be fine," Derek mutters, and she has to stifle a smile. So does Mark.

"We'll leave you to it, then." Mark says after they've made sure nothing is broken. "Waffles are ready whenever you are."

* * *

They're in the living room after breakfast, waiting for a phone call, the news on in a background monotone, watching Meredith paint Rosalyn's toenails glittery pink as she reads aloud to them from the Just So Stories.

"Get it." Archer grouches when the doorbell chimes, putting his hands over Gabriel's ears. The baby scowls and tries to push them away.

"Hello, little brother." Nancy grins, stamping snow from her boots, puffing white clouds on the top step as she steadies a silver walker.

"Derek," his mother smiles. " You look tired."

* * *

 _ **Everyone in and around Florida right now - stay safe !**_

 _ **The rest of you, please review. I know this wasn't much in the way of advancing the plot but I felt like I needed to write it. I like drama... if this medicine gig doesn't work out maybe I'll write never ending TV soaps. Lol. No. Just kidding. I love medicine.**_

 _ **For those who didn't know but want to, truvada is a post HIV exposure prophylactic combination drug (emtricitabine and tenofovir, for those inclined to know) taken about twice daily for twenty eight days.**_

 _ **Lecture over. Please note that reviews are scientifically proven to make me update faster.**_


	15. unraveling

**_Thanks to all the regular readers and reviewers._**

* * *

It's raining when they get there.

This isn't the rain she's used to; here, it rains with a fury, drops large and fast, spraying back up off the ground. The air is heavy with tropical heat even though the driver tells them it's been raining for almost a week.

Monsoon season. Just like last time. The clouds hang low and thick, impenetrable gray, backlit in places by a weak sun. There isn't a breath of wind.

She feels like she's suffocating.

They walk through the airport quickly, heads down, trailing luggage. A few heads turn to look at them, sticking out like sore thumbs. Even Nae.

The driver offers to carry their bags. Alex refuses, and she watches his fingers clench on the handle. No wonder they hate them.

The hired car smells of cigarette smoke and sweat, water beading on the sticky vinyl seat cover. Wet newspaper sticks to the floor mats. Back home, Ro will be awake. Mark will be making her breakfast, spilling flour, letting her put chocolate syrup in her milk.

She sits in the middle, legs raised uncomfortably over the bump, flying up off the seat every time they hit a pothole. Once, the top of her head brushes the roof and Karev offers to change places. She refuses.

Naomi curls against the door, silent. Her phone is constantly in her hand.

The building looks the same on the outside, maybe a little more weathered, a little beaten, long and low, sun-bleached white, windows barred, the doors painted a fading red behind metal safety doors.

The yard is a mess of tiny rivers and puddles deep enough to soak them to the ankles, the same metal playground equipment painted in primary colors collecting water.

She thinks of mosquitoes breeding, bacteria fermenting in the puddles when the sun comes out. The playground equipment is rusting, paint flaking off the bottoms of the poles where the water touches them.

The door is answered by a child in a yellow shirt a little too big for him, a jaunty baseball cap. His mouth falls open as he takes them all in, dark eyes widening behind his glasses.

She smiles; she can't help it. The last time she saw him, he was a foot shorter, even skinnier, and in a hospital bed.

"Hello, Sekani." she says, and he drops his eyes, suddenly shy. His name means "merriment and joy".

He was eight when he came here, last year, his joints swollen, near-paralysed, with the voice of an eighty year old. He had tuberculosis.

He darts away into the small office off the hall, and she notes the slight palsy of his legs he'll probably always have.

"I hope Zola's okay." Karev mutters, shifting his weight. He stares at the walls, plastered with photos of brightly smiling children.

"They take good care of them here." Naomi says, the first words out of her mouth since they touched down.

* * *

The office is a small dingy room, painted the same eggshell white as the rest of the facility, children's paintings on the wall. Most of them feature wildlife, scenery, happy little family scenes that break his heart. One, in pride of place behind the narrow wooden desk, is a portrait. Red hair, blue eyes. More than a passing resemblance.

"He was sad you didn't take it with you," a young woman says. He startles; he hadn't seen her sitting there on the couch opposite the desk. She doesn't look a day over thirty, dark hair braided over her shoulder, nut-brown skin. Her eyes are on Addison.

"I left in a bit of a hurry last time," she replies shortly. "I'll tell Sekani I'm sorry."

"I suppose you did." she muses, sliding into the chair behind the desk, leaving them to stand, because the sagging couch is too far back to be of any real use. The message is clear.

"How was the flight?"

"Cut the crap, Ali." Naomi snaps. "Can we see her?"

"Technically, no." she smirks. "None of you are her guardians."

"Ali-"

"But-" she holds up a hand, fixing him with her eyes, the same shade as her skin. It gives her an oddly monochrome appearance, but not in a bad way. "You're doctors. And you," she nods to him. "Are a pediatric surgeon, right?"

* * *

"Cookies," he's muttering fiercely, pacing the cold tiled floor. Addison apparently doesn't allow shoes in the house anymore, he doesn't have any slippers, and since socks on tiles are suicide, his toes are frostbitten. "They're baking _cookies_."

"So?" Meredith asks tersely, snapping out a wrinkled dress printed with daisies. "What is it with Rosalyn and flowers, anyway?"

"It's a phase." he says distractedly. "Why are you doing laundry? Addison probably has an army of housekeepers or something."

"She gave them Christmas off." she replies. "And I'm bored to death."

"She's acting like everything is normal, like she hasn't been keeping a massive secret from me for four years and hasn't told me she's sick, she just smiled and now she's -"

"Baking cookies, I heard." Meredith says wearily. "Talk to her."

"I don't know where to start."

"She's your mother."

"Exactly."

"Derek," she says, turning a small sock that's inside out. "You don't get unlimited chances to talk to your mother. _Go._ "

* * *

Ali walks at hyperspeed down the corridors, leading them through stairwells packed with chattering children headed to their afternoon session of school. The older ones, who recognise her, gape in frank astonishment. The younger ones giggle behind their hands, eyes widening. She smiles at them and they melt away, like shadows.

"These are the first to tenth graders," Ali intones, like she feels obligated to give a tour. "Kindergartners don't go back after lunch. The littlest ones are probably in storytime now."

"By a fever, what do you mean?" Alex pants as he tries to keep up with her.

"She has," she rolls her eyes. "A _fever_. You are a _doctor_. So you need to see her."

"Get with it, Alex." she tells him kindly. He might be a great surgeon, but he's painfully slow on the uptake.

"Oh," his eyes widen. "Sorry."

"Don't make me make you sorry." Ali says, but her voice is almost friendly as she props open a splintered wooden door with her hip.

Inside, children who look like they might be anywhere between one and four years old are sitting on colorful woven mats in the middle of the long room, some by themselves, some propped up on pillows, the youngest ones in cribs that are in two rows against the longer walls. The wall at the end is mostly a large window, half open, a curtain swelling in the slight breeze that has picked up since it stopped raining.

About twenty pairs of round eyes swivel to them at once, all interest in the story being read vanishing. She recognises Zola, sitting on a blue and red rug, dressed in the same yellow outfit as the rest of the children. She discreetly snaps a picture on her phone, sending it to Meredith.

She looks healthy, if not particularly happy; she's clutching a battered giraffe she recognises from a picture Derek showed her, one hand tugging morosely at the mat.

A woman with tightly wound curls and thick glasses is sitting on a low wooden stool, reading aloud from _Green Eggs And Ham_. She looks up at them when they enter, her face breaking into a smile.

"Zola gets to go home, then?" she asks sunnily. "We're all packed and ready."

"No." Ali says briskly. "Not yet."

* * *

"Can I get a smile?" he asks, and she turns around, a wide chocolatey grin on her face, flour dotted on her chin. He takes a quick picture and sends it to Addison.

 _I'll miss all of it_ she said softly the night before they left, curled warm and solid into his side. He let his fingers play down the length of her bare spine, and she sighed.

 _Don't go_ he wanted to say. _Stay_.

Instead, he kissed her, slow and deep, made them both forget for a little while.

He leaves Ro sitting happily at the kitchen table, mixing the contents of a large bowl with great concentration, the tip of her tongue sticking out.

Derek used to do that, he remembers. Pencil in hand, staring down a test. Wearing a catchers mitt, squinting into the sun. He grew out of it.

They're in the laundry room, both of them; he can hear a murmur of voices over the hum of the dryer. Archer has decamped with the baby, with a warning that he will be returning after he gets more clothes and diapers. Naomi's decision to go with Addison and Alex was sudden, but Archer seems almost afraid to be alone with their child.

Carolyn is standing in front of the oven, a batch of gingerbread men inside. The house smells like Christmas decades ago, nutmeg and peppermint and scents he can't put a name to, swirling warm and delicious in the air.

"If Derek sent you here, go away." she says firmly, and he winces.

"What if he didn't?"

"Then I'll let you lick the spoon," she grins.

"I'd have to fight Ro for it." he chuckles. "Talk to Derek."

"I'll wait for the inquisition to come to me before I go searching for it." she shudders. "Have you spoken to Addison?"

"They've landed." he tells her. "I don't know anything else."

"You really think it's...wise? Letting her go back there?"

"Since when does anyone _let_ Addison do anything?" he asks, swiping batter from the bowl. She swats his hand away absently, more out of habit than anything else, as she watches Derek crouch beside the table. Rosalyn giggles, holding out the spoon for him to taste.

He says something that makes her grin. Carolyn watches, her eyes misting.

"She likes him."

"Good."

"Should we have told him?" she asks, ducking her head as Derek comes over to them, all traces of his smile falling away.

"You didn't know," he reminds her, stealing another glob of batter before he makes a run for it. "You couldn't have told him."

"Well, then shouldn't you have?"

* * *

"Why?"

The two women are staring each other down in the office, eyes hard. Their postures are almost identical, hand on hip. Neither backs down.

"We don't trust you, that's why." Ali spits.

"I'm the reason there even _is_ a we." Addison snaps. "I taught you, Ali. Everything you needed. Everything you _wanted_. I kept this place going when you couldn't-"

"And then you ruined everything we had worked for!" the younger woman says, her voice rising dangerously. "You and your stupid idea, you nearly got us shut down. Do you have any idea what happened after you left? People were scared. You ruined our name, our reputation-"

"It wasn't her fault." she cuts in angrily, and Addison sends her a warning look.

"Back off, Nae."

"This is weirder than Seattle Grace Mercy Death." Alex mumbles. He rarely makes sense when he speaks. Maybe it's a Seattle thing.

"We're offering her a good home." Addison says after a deep breath. "A family. Isn't that what we all want for the children?"

"She can have a family here." Ali says with finality, closing the case folder in front of her. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

* * *

"Not now." she says in her best _Mom's busy_ voice. It worked like a charm...when he was about six.

Now he just stands there and stares back at her with her husband's eyes. Her little not-so-little boy.

"When?" he asks, his hand creeping towards the bowl. Some things never change. She lets him.

She jerks her head towards Rosalyn, who has been joined by Mark. They're scooping dough onto sheets, laughing and joking.

"Well, she's what I want to talk about." he says, his eyes softening as he watches them.

"She doesn't need to hear it."

"You're right," he concedes. "You know, this ...I always imagined something like this. We'd have kids, and Mark-" he laughs, shaking his head. "Mark would always be his eternally single self, and we'd all have Christmas together and it would look-" he points to the table with a dough-coated finger. "Just like this. Except now it's all messed up, Ma. We have a kid but we're not together. I love Meredith but we might not have kids. Mark and Addison are...well, Mark and Addison. "

He looks at her with his eyes clouded, a million miles away, and she feels her heart lurch. It's forty years ago, and he's standing at the end of her bed, tear-damp, asking her _why Dad?_ _Why him?_

It's now, and he's asking her, the silent question in his eyes loud as a scream, why she never told him all the things she didn't.

* * *

 ** _It might be a little unclear what's going on over in Africa...I promise it'll be explained._**

 ** _I'd also like to say that I do not, in any way, mean to imply that Malawi is a dangerous place. It's gorgeous. This is a fictional sorry that could have been in any developing country. It just happened that Zola is from Malawi, so...yeah._**

 ** _Also, I've noticed a sudden drop in the number of reviews, for whatever reason. It's okay if you're busy and don't have the time, but if it's because you don't like where this is going, please let me know!_**


	16. you go from there

**_This is MerDer. It's mentioned in the summary. To the person who told me I 'need my ass kicked' ; you can haul yours over to some other fic where everything is sunshine and rainbows, cause this isn't it._**

 ** _I understand that you ship MerDer and I respect that - please try and respect what others ship._**

* * *

So much about this is familiar... and so much isn't. He's met by reminders of their shared past at every turn, dredging up memories he thought he'd abandoned the night he left New York.

And then he's slammed by the truth about people he once knew so well, people he loved, called his family.

He fingers the faded face of the porcelain angel, the wide blue eyes, the slightly lopsided smile. She made in the third grade, he remembers; Bizzy never allowed it on their tree. She brought it with her when she left for college. In med school, it adorned the two-foot tree they put up, and it became tradition after that. He loved it because it was a piece of the Addison he never knew, and when they divorced, splitting cleanly down the middle, surgically incising each other form their lives, it went with her.

That second Christmas in Seattle - it never felt quite right. Not because he wasn't with the woman he loved, but because they were making new traditions, new memories. Addison was familiar, comforting; Meredith was new and exciting. A fresh start.

Now he's in the dream he stopped having years ago, sitting under a tree, watching the lights dance in his daughter's eyes.

"This is for you," she says shyly, glancing at him from under her lashes. "But you can only open it on Christmas."

She sets a present under the tree, the paper bunching at the corners, the ribbon slightly crooked, _Dr. Derek_ scrawled across it.

Christmas. Zola's first Christmas with them. Will they miss it?

He realises with a guilty flash that he missed Rosalyn's first Christmas, too.

 _I've already kept one daughter from you._

Addison's voice echoes in his mind, higher than normal, jagged with pain.

Mark is on the couch behind them, his phone spinning restlessly in his fingers.

"Don't peek," his mother says sternly, lowering herself into a chair. Ro flushes to the roots of her hair, pulling back her hand. He can't help but smile, reminded of Amy a million Christmases ago, wide eyed with wonder.

"Derek." she says. He doesn't turn around.

"Derek." Louder this time.

"Later, Ma." he says, meeting her eye. She kept him waiting for years - she can wait a little too.

He knows it's not her fault. He's just not sure whose fault it _is_ , and the blame circled down to her.

"Sorry." Ro says, her eyes brightening suddenly. "Mark, you forgot Mommy's present!"

"Right there, Ro." he points.

"No," she whines. "The other one - the secret special one, remember?"

"Rosalyn, sweetie, I'm not sure if-" Mark glances at him, something like apprehension in his eyes.

"I know where it is, I'll get it." she says excitedly, trying to get up.

" _No._ " Mark says, his tone sharp; her mouth turns down instantly at the corners, her jaw stiff. No tears.

"Sorry," he mutters, drawing a hand across his forehead. "Ro, I'm sorry, but-"

"She's not coming back? Like last time." she says, voice trembling. "You _lied_ ?"

"No, baby, of course not. Mom's coming back, I just-"

"Just get the damn thing, Mark." he says, annoyed. He can't understand why it's such a big deal.

"Mind your own business." Archer growls.

" _She_ -" he looks at Ro, swiping angrily at her eyes. "Is my business."

Mark looks from him to Rosalyn, apparently torn, then gets up, his shoulders hunching.

"Fine."

* * *

"Where's Mark?" she asks, lolling against him as she reads a book and he checks his emails. His mother is still sitting in her armchair, alternating between shooting him dark looks and knitting something.

He looks up, realising that Mark hasn't returned with the mystery present.

"Do you think they found Zola?" she asks, sitting up, folding down the page. It used to drive Addison crazy when he dog-eared books like that. He wonders if it still does. "Do you think they're coming back now?"

He looks at her anxious little face, brows pinching together, lips pursed. He wishes he could soothe her, assure her her mother will be back soon, but he doesn't know.

So he does the one thing he can - gets up to go find Mark.

 _ **..**_

He passes the room where they've been sleeping at a clip, stopping a few feet past it and turning almost inexorably towards it, the small hunched form on the bed tugging at him.

"How're the presents going?" she asks, brushing at her cheeks. Her voice is thick, the way it gets when she cries.

"Meredith." He meant it as a comfort; it comes out a plea.

"I can't," she chokes. "Derek, I can't-"

He circles her in his arms, her head fitting perfectly beneath his chin, her fingers digging into his shoulders, tight and then tighter, like she's afraid of letting go. Her body shudders with the violence of her grief, the outpouring of emotions he can feel building up in himself.

But he can't let himself go - she needs him to be strong. One of them has to hold on.

He strokes her back, slow circles, feeling her quieting a little.

"It's all I want." she whispers, pulling back; when he looks at her, her pale eyes are brilliant with tears, red with pain. "She's all I want for Christmas."

"I know."

It's all he wants, too.

"I - I don't understand." she half-laughs. "She's not my baby- I mean, I didn't carry her, I didn't give birth to her, but I can feel it here-" she brushes a finger across his chest, feather light. "It hurts here."

"She's our baby," he says, is arms tightening around her. "She's our baby no matter what, and I don't care if you didn't give birth to her."

"It's just that," she pulls away from hihim, straightening her shirt, brushing at the wet spot on his. "It would feel like we're forgetting her, if we had another baby, and that scares me, because-"

It hits him hard, the look on her face, fear and grief contorting her features.

"Because I want a baby." he breathes. "Meredith..."

"I'm sorry," she gasps, her chest hitching with fresh sobs. "I'm so sorry, it's my fault they took her, I ruined the trial, and now Addison-" she makes a vague gesture with he hand."And Mark, and Rosalyn, they're terrified, Derek, we don't know half of what they went through-"

"Jesus, Meredith, no, I don't think that-"

"Did you know she's scared to have another baby?" she whispers, her voice hard. "Did you know that Mark wants one? That he hates himself for feeling that way, for wanting that? That Addison hates herself for not giving him that? She wants to wait a year, maybe more. She wants to feel safe again, she wants to know she won't be giving her child a fatal disease, and we've sent her right back to where it all started?"

* * *

It burns right through his hand, he imagines, staring at the little wrapped package. Falls to the floor in flames, burning itself into a little pile of ashes like his dreams.

The paper is spangled pink, the light catching as he turns it, sliding in psychedelic patterns along the folded edges. Ro chose it from the rolls they keep in the hall cupboard, watched him wrap it with the same intensity she helped him choose it.

 _That_ one, she said when she saw it, the stone winking at them from the tray, casting a tiny rainbow on her palm when she held it. _She'll love it._

Would she have?

He'd imagined Christmas morning, the three of them like it's always been. Maybe this would have been the last Christmas it would be this way.

They'd open all the other presents first, Ro would squeal in delight, and then when it was almost over, he was going to reach behind the tree, say _oh, look, a surprise_.

That was Ro's idea. She insisted.

And then Addison would laugh, her eyes lighting up the way they do, the skin around her eyes crinkling into the lines he loves because they mean she's happy. She'd take the box from him, slide the tape neatly off as she's wont to do.

She'd open the box. She'd be a little surprised, maybe her mouth would be slightly open, her hair falling loose and sleep-tousled into her face.

And that's as far as his imagination stretches, because he can't bear to think about it anymore.

"Hey."

He walks right in like he's been doing since they were five. Sits on the bed next to him, smoothing his fingers across the sheets. He shared a bed with her for more than a decade. They share a child.

If there's anyone who can understand him right now... it's the man sitting beside him.

"That it?" Derek asks, looking at the box.

"Yeah." his voice is dry, catching.

"Is it what I think it is?" he asks, his voice neutral.

 _I going to ask her_ he said to him once. Med school graduation - well, a few weeks before - nerves jangling with terror and excitement, high on success and drunk on possibility. They chose the ring together, befuddled by how many types there seemed to be.

Derek did it the day before graduation; the day of, the ring caught the sunlight when she flung her cap in the air, triumphant, blindingly bright, cheers swelling around them.

She told him what she did with those rings. Left them to Derek, the sun-drenched memory of that day long forgotten.

He wonders what Derek did with them, the stone a shade too small and the band that seared his skin each time they touched until she left for Seattle.

"Doesn't matter." he says thickly. It doesn't seem right, in the face of everything that's happening.

He feels his fingers close around his wrist as he reaches to put the box away.

"Do it."

"What?"

"You heard me," he says firmly. "She makes you happy. You make her happy."

His face twists a little on the last words; old scars. Their betrayal was a rusty knife - he's not sure it'll ever be completely healed.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." he says after a while.

"When does anything turn out the way it's supposed to?" Derek asks lightly. "Just do it...and go from there, okay?"

 ** _Patsy - I haven't forgotten! I love this story. I love all my stories, bit this one's special because it's my first MerDer._**

 ** _And this chapter has more of them than usual, for you._**

 ** _Anyway, please review !_**

 ** _Unless you're a rabid bitch troll, in which case please don't leave cowardly anonymous reviews._**


	17. a time to change

**_Hi! I haven't updated this is ages, sorry, but life has been busy._**

 ** _A lot of you will probably dislike this chapter - I beg you to hang in there until the next one, which will explain a lot more._**

* * *

He's finding his way in the dark with his feet, one hand trailing along the wall, and he's almost reached the stairs in his quest for water when he hears a soft muffled sound from the end of the hallway.

Ro's room.

A faint bar of onto the carpet in the hallway from the cracked-open door, striping up the wall opposite. It lights up a picture of Addison and Rosalyn, probably taken in LA, on the beach. Ro is a toddler, pudgy and sweet, in her mother's lap as she flings a handful of sand into the camera. Addison's laughing, but not at the camera, at the little girl in her arms. It's obvious she didn't know the photograph was being taken - probably by Mark - and she looks younger. Less inhibited, less tired, less...less the Addison he remembers from Seattle.

More the one used to love.

"Derek?" Meredith rasps behind him. Her voice is thick, eyes puffy, but she smiles weakly when she sees what he's looking at.

"They look happy." she says softly, drawing up beside him. They can hear Mark's voice in the room behind them, low and soothing, and he's seized with the urge to go in, to help, to do _something_ other than stand here and watch lives rip apart for him. Meredith lays a hand on his elbow like she knows what he's thinking, and he draws her into him.

They jump when Mark emerges from her bedroom, Rosalyn held awkwardly in his arms to spare her cast, although she has her arms locked around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder.

"Can't sleep." he mouths as he passes them; Ro lifts her head long enough to give him a sleepy glance and then presses back into Mark.

He follows him into his and Addison's bedroom, uncertain, Meredith standing in the doorway. He watched Mark lay her gently in the bed on what must be Addison's side, judging by the neatly bookmarked novel on the nightstand. She whimpers when he pulls away, one hand fisted in the duvet, the other in his shirt.

She whispers something they can't hear, and Mark kisses her forehead, rocking gently until she settles against the cascade of pillows. One hand is curled near her mouth like she might suck her thumb, the other remains firmly clutching Mark's shirt.

She looks almost curiously at him standing there, then past him to Meredith.

She missed her mother, he realises. She's four, terrified and injured and reeling from the shock of having him introduced into her life. He has sent her mother away from her.

Does she realise it?

* * *

"You're being ridiculous." she snaps, shoving the lukewarm glass of water she's been offered back at Ali across the desk.

They were sent back yesterday, Ali feigning a meeting when she knows full well the centre hasn't had a new sponsor in the last year. They returned, simmering, to a motel, spent the night on lumpy mattresses.

And now she's here, the familiar monsoon humidity clinging to her skin and curling her hair. It smells like disinfectant in the hallways, like it always dies in the mornings. She can hear the clang of breakfast dishes being dome in the cafeteria, the chanting of the children in their morning classes. A few curious younger ones hover in the doorway, scattering in a chorus of giggles when Ali looks at them.

" _You're_ being ridiculous." Ali counters evenly. "This request - if you call it that, and not a demand - is not going to be entertained."

"I can personally vouch for them, Derek Shepherd and Meredith Grey are the most -"

"I don't care if they're the most wonderful people on earth," Ali hisses, her face twisting. "No."

"Isn't that what this is all for?" she asks, gesturing to the tiny office. "To give the kids loving homes? Better lives?"

"That's what it was for." she replies, her dark eyes flashing. " _You_ ended that."

She came here as a twenty-something, fresh out of med school, young and eager and passionate. She taught her the basics of emergency care and surgery. She taught her to look at the children as something other than the sick, abandoned orphans they are She taught her to run this place.

"What happened wasn't my-"

"Your fault? No, it wasn't. It's easy, isn't it, Dr. Montgomery, for you to sit there with a ticket out of here ready in your hand, and talk about how it wasn't your fault. In your country, it might not have been your fault. Here? After I warned you, repeatedly, to stop what you were doing - don't you get it? You brought it on yourself, you -"

"Stop." Naomi says, her face thunderous. "Stop right there."

* * *

Addison looks rooted to her chair, her fingers whitening as she clutches the arms. She's looking down into her lap, her frizzing hair obscuring her face, but she knows she will be wearing her mask. The one she wore in the weeks after it happened, perfectly blank and eerily calm. Unreadable.

"You know she was doing -"

"Good work?" Alizeh laughs, shaking her head. "What is that you say - _don't bite off more than you can chew_ , yes? I told her, so many times, don't get involved, don't help them, let them be, but _no_ , she just had to play missionary, didn't she."

As long as she remembers, Addison has volunteered at Planned Parenthood. Later, when she had her own practice, there was a candy bowl of condoms on the reception desk. She gives free checkups to call girls. She has no idea _why not_.

She was surprised that Addison was spending so much time in Malawi; her standard visits were never more than a month, and she never asked to handle the paperwork herself. She preferred the medical aspect of things, leaving her to deal with bureaucracy.

When the complaints started, she didn't believe them. She thought Addison had gotten it out of her system in LA, had had enough of playing mother to these girls. Apparently, she hadn't.

Apparently, she started a free clinic for sex workers. In _this centre_. She took in their children, even if they had a living parent. She fudged paperwork. She provided _counselling_. She started talking the girls - some of them no older than seventeen, eighteen, - out of their professions.

"Do you think they were _voluntary_ sex workers?" Ali hisses, hands flying. "How well do you think it went down here when she started shutting down brothels? It's a way of life, it's an _income_ -"

"It shouldn't be."

She's looked up, finally, eyes blazing. "They're children, surely you can see that, they're children themselves, selling their bodies just to-"

"Oh, how would you know." Ali says caustically. "You've never _had_ to work, have you, you've never had to struggle. You've had everything you wanted. I don't even expect you to understand that desperation, that need, because you _can't_."

"Well, do you want to leave Zola here so she can grow up and be a prostitute when you kick her out at eighteen?" Addison explodes. "Because that's what I do understand."

* * *

"What are you doing up?" Mark asks gruffly, closing the door behind them.

"I...heard a noise." Derek says, looking defeated. "Mark, I'm -"

"Don't be." he says shortly. "She'll be okay, she's a tough kid."

"She-"

"Nightmare." he says, like it's a common occurrence. "Like I said, she'll be okay now. She usually just needs one of us to sit with her a while, and she'll-"

He breaks off, running a hand through his hair, and she can tell he's remembering other nights spent with Addison, soothing her fretful daughter to sleep. She remembers Zola being sick - not sick, sore and fussy the night after her surgery - and she cried almost constantly, her little voice shrill and demanding, even through the phone Cristina held up.

She remembers the helpless feeling of not being able to hold her baby, kiss her, rock her till her tears stop. She and Derek clutched each others hands all night, singing to their daughter through a screen while she screamed, and close to morning she fell asleep, exhausted, on Owen's chest.

 _We can't do that again_ Derek said the next morning, sheet-white. He was shaky, and when they got to the hospital he wouldn't put Zola down.

That was the same day she swapped the vials.

* * *

He can't believe the things this woman is saying. Can't believe she believes in them, but the fervor of her voice, the urgency in her tone - it makes him believe that she believes in it.

Addison looks rigid, staright-backed backed in her chair, silent after her outburst, and Dr. Bennett looks shocked. Ali looks disgusted.

"You don't think I'm trying to change that?" she spits, frothy white droplets hitting the ridged wood of her desk. "Not that you've made it easier."

"I can assure you the White Foundation is still willing to -" Dr. Bennett starts, but is stopped by a furiously upturned palm.

"The White Foundation wasn't _willing_ a year ago, if I recall correctly-"

"We couldn't find anyone willing to come here, not after the r-" Naomi breaks off, and she looks at Addison apologetically.

Ali looks at her too, but it's triumphant. He realises she's proven her point. "Exactly. I can't find anyone to teach. To cook, to clean, to look after these children. I'm the only doctor left. We have a nurse, but we share her with another clinic. Here are seven of us and a hundred children. I turn away more, every week. People are scared, Dr. Bennett - no one wants to work here anymore."

"I'll find someone," Naomi says, "I'll do something, Ali, I'll get you a bigger grant, I'll -"

"Buy this baby?" Ali says dryly. "That's what it looks like, you know. You show up almost a year after you leave us high and dry, offering cash and resources and promises - but you want this baby. It looks like a bribe, and _you_ -" she looks at Addison. "You are the one who taught me not to compromise. Ever. What guarantee do you give me that you won't pull your funding, your staff again? That one of them won't get into something they shouldn't have? "

"It's not." he says; all three women look at him in surprise. "I promise it's not. I'll work here."

"Alex." Addison says. She looks ..proud? "You don't have to."

"I want to." he says, then swallows and says "I _want_ to."

There isn't much left in Seattle. No fellowships have come his way; maybe it's time for him to go a different way.

"Do it." he urges Naomi. "The signing a contract thing, or whatever - do it right now. I can finish at Seattle Grace in a few months, be out here right after. I -"

"As a member of your Foundation working here as a doctor," Ali says briskly. "He could recommend that Zola be placed with the Shepherds. You know, in his professional opinion."

And then it dawns on all three of them. The reason she practically forced him to examine Zola yesterday, even though she's perfectly healthy. She's been steering them all along.

He bursts out laughing, helpless incredulous laughter, Addison stares at Ali, and Naomi looks stunned.

"What can I say?" Ali shrugs. "I knew, when I saw him...he's a good one. And you taught me to do what's best." she addresses Addison. "He's the best."

* * *

 ** _I know, you're like, what the hell is she even talking about?_**

 ** _I_** ** _t might seem surprising - or not - but in some developing countries rape and assault still is a weapon of suppression. It's a constant and real threat. It's a display of power._**

 ** _Like it or not, please review._**


	18. Chapter 18

**_Hey!_**

 ** _I know it's been forever, so thank you to all the people who kept reviewing and here's the next chapter without too much chatter that no one reads anyway._**

 ** _Enjoy!_**

* * *

"Stop it."

"What?" he asks irritably, clicking on his phone.

"Stop doing that with your phone." Meredith says. "Stop staring at it."

"Well, I'm waiting for news. About my daughter."

" _Our._ "

"What?"

" _Our_ daughter." Meredith says quietly. "Ours. You said your."

"Right." he mutters, yanking on the chain of the lamp on his side of the bed, sending her face into darkness. "Go to sleep."

"You really think I can sleep when I haven't heard from Addison?"

"Well, try." he snarls. "Just...leave me alone."

"Fine." she spits, ripping off the covers and sliding to the floor. "Maybe I will."

"It's the middle of the night, where do you think you're going?"

"What do you care?"

"We agreed not to run." he reminds her wearily, running a hand through his hair.

"We agreed to love each other." she says. "Even when we hate each other. We aren't doing that."

"I love you."

"Say it without looking at the floor, Derek."

"Shut up in here." Mark's voice growls through the darkness. "You're waking Ro. I just got her to stop crying cause she misses Addison. You can argue outside if you want."

"Sorry." they say, chastised. He feels a wave of guilt for not having thought of Rosalyn in the first place.

"I mean, you're not used to kids -" Mark begins. "Oh. Sorry, didn't mean -"

"It's all right." Meredith says, her voice catching.

"Go down the hall." Mark says tiredly. "Room's full of boxes of crap we never unpacked but you can probably sleep in it."

"Thanks." Meredith says, and the relief in her voice is embarrassing.

"Derek, what's going on?" Mark asks when Meredith has left, closing the door with a soft click.

"None of your business."

"Hey, I told you about my stuff." Mark shrugs. "Now you gotta tell me yours."

"Mark, this isn't kindergarten." he replies heatedly. "Just go."

"I know it's not kindergarten." Mark says coolly. "It's your marriage, Derek. Your second. I was best man at the first and I was supposed to be best man at the second, I ruined the first but I'm sure as hell not going to let the second fall apart."

"I'm not leaving her." he replies.

"Well, you're not doing much good staying either." Mark snorts.

"She set back my career." he mutters. "Trashed the trial that I started for _her_ , to protect her, that might have been able to help my mother,she nearly threw her own career away, she ruined Richard's, she got our child deported, Mark. This is the best I can do right now."

"Well, why'd she do it?"

"That's how she is," he shrugs. "She's ... bravely impulsive. She dives regaress of how deep the water is or who she might land on or who might be left behind and then she gives up, she stops swimming. She tried to take a bullet for me once, Mark, but she was pregnant. She didn't think twice. She never does and I don't think she ever will."

"That's what you love about her though." Mark raises an eyebrow. "She's your contrast. Why do you think Weber didn't come straight to you? You were his student. You have a good relationship, you're closer to his wife than Meredith. If you'd messed with the drugs, no one would have noticed. You think everything's black and white, Derek, but it's not. It's usually gray, and Meredith knows that. She sees that, and you need some of it. You love her...just not right now."

"I've been _blacklisted_ -"

"For God's sake." Mark barks. "Derek, you are at the top of your game. You're a world class neurosurgeon, people come from all over to see you, you've got a protocol named after you, you have a great job. Your career has taken so much from your personal life already, man. You and Addison, I know you don't like to admit it, but that all started going downhill when you started obsessing about becoming department head here. You're mad at Meredith for ruining your chance with Zola? That's fine. Your career will always be there. You can fix it, it'll always grow, Derek, but you blow this with your wife and I promise you you will regret it for the rest of your damn life. There's more than just career, Derek, it's what you go home from, not go home to. You need something in your life besides that."

"She does it for the right reasons." Mark says, clapping him on the back. "Think about that."

* * *

"Why did you do that?" she asks.

"What?" Karev asks, kicking at a pebble. It skitters across the bare grkund and pings off a metal swing pole, coming to rest at her feet. She takes a shot and it vanishes into the undergrowth.

"Decide to move here." she says. "It's ... a lot."

"Did you know how they found out about the trial?" he asks after a lengthy pause. "I told the guy who was Chief at the time. Wanna know why? I was jealous of Meredith. I thought she was going to be chief resident, I thought I deserved it more than she did. So I sabotaged her. I knew she did it for the right reasons, but I was sooo mad. And then neither of us got it. But I don't think I ever really wanted it anyway, you know. I like this -" he gestures at the building behind them. "I used to work with the clinic, before, bringing kids to Seattle for surgery. That's how Shepherd met their kid, actually. It was life changing...we were giving those kids a chance they'd never even dreamed of before, without it, hell, half of them would be dead by now. I don't think I would have been as good at being chief resident as I am at giving these kids second chances, because this... is my passion. Sounds cheesy, but I grew up with everything against me, everyone telling me how small I was, how hopeless but the people who believed in me are the people who are the reason I'm who I am today."

"And you're one of them." he adds, shooting her a grin. "You and Robbins."

She smiles despite herself, then feels a chill run down her spine at his last words. "Robbins?"

"She won the Carter Madison grant and came out here a few years ago, actually." Alex says. "She's head of peds in Seattle, my mentor, kind of. She didn't stick it out though, but she offered me a job at a clinic here that I got cheated out of by some chick I thought I...anyway, she's the reason I'm doing it, and you, and Mer, and the kids. I finally found what I was meant to do, and I'm doing it."

"The Carter Madison?" she asks. "A few years ago, the woman who left? I'm her fill-in. She's the reason I stepped in."

"Small world?" Alex laughs nervously.

"I'm not blaming her for what happened to me." she waves away his frown. "But no one leaves a Carter Madison grant."

"She missed her girlfriend."

"I missed my _daughter_ ," she replies, trying to control her voice.

"But you don't blame her, remember?" Alex says. "Really, you're telling me this decision is _a lot_ , but I don't think you knew either, when you made it. You probably didn't think that ...that ...would happen, that your life would be changed forever, that you'd have to fight to be who you used to be before you came here. I might take a wrong turn down a dark road or die of dengue fever or ...get eaten by a lion for all I know. Sometimes, Montgomery, you just gotta hold your breath and jump."

"Huh. I never pegged you for Psych."

"Oh, shut up." he grins. "Get a signal yet?"

"No."

"Let's go check on Zola and steal Ali's computer and email them." he suggests.

"You're the boss now." she teases. "Lead the way."

* * *

He looks up hopefully when the door creaks open - so Addison still hasn't learned to oil a hinge - but it isn't Meredith.

It's Archer. And his baby.

"I never thought I'd be sneaking into your room at midnight." Archer shudders.

"How the mighty have fallen."

"Well, this mighty doctor would like to discuss your mother's case with you." Archer says, inviting himself onto the bed, jiggling the baby. "Sorry, he just likes to be held or he won't sleep. Anyway, I heard you yelling -"

"Sorry -"

"Nah, Addie always did say you were a yeller. I heard about your trial, amd I think your mother is a good candidate."

"My trial is tainted." he replies, bitter. "Let's not talk about this."

"No, no. I never should have expected you to pick up on the subtleties, but I didn't want to have to _beg._ What I mean, Derek, is give me your trial. Your patent. I have some modifications in mind, and once I make those - they're excellent, by the way, can't believe you never thought of them - the treatment protocol will be different enough that the tampering won't be an issue anymore. The FDA will approve it, I'll get a waiver for your mother to get her in immediately, and everyone's happy."

"I mean, I know it's a big ask." Archer says, off his expression. "But you did ask me if you could marry my sister and I said yes. Just saying."

"Ookay." Archer says slowly when he still doesn't reply. "Looks like Derek's lost the power of speech because he's so mad. Isn't that funny, Gabe? But it's lucky that Daddy's such a good doctor, because I can fix him. Yes I can. But not even Daddy's good enough to fix the fact that Derek's always been an ass. He won't even give away something that's useless to him now to save his own _mother_. Isn't he an awful man? I know your Aunt Addie married him, but she's not very bright either -"

"Take it." he says suddenly, cutting into Archer's babbling.

"Huh?"

"Start over." he says breathlessly. "You're right, there's no way I can ever touch that trial again, but I can't keep it away from someone who can for the sake of my jealousy. If you win an award for it, whatever, you can put your name on it. My mom has Alzheimers and my wife may get it. This drug can help so many people, it's not my place to withhold that from them."

"Wow, Derek's growing up." Archer marvels.

"And now, Daddy's going back to his own room." he says firmly, nudging Archer with his toe.

"You made a very...noble...decision." Archer turns around to say, looking sincere. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"Just...make it work."

"Oh, I will." Archer says smugly.

"Archer?" he calls when they've almost left.

"Yeah?"

"Stop swearing around your kid. You're a terrible father."

"I plugged his ears when I said it." Archer hisses.

* * *

 ** _I'd truly forgotten how much I enjoy writing this crazy make-believe story. I was really confused about it for a while but I'm clearer now...and hopefully will start updating faster !_**

 ** _Even faster if you review!_**


	19. Chapter 19

**_Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter. This is a short one, but I promise more next time!_**

* * *

"Everything looks good, squirt." Alex says, patting the baby's dark curls. It took a moment for her to recognise him, but when she did, she refused to let go.

"You're sure." Naomi asks. "Addison, you should take a look too, I mean...he's a resident -"

"I taught him, Nae, he's good." she says.

"If you're done discussing my medical abilities, why don't you start packing?" Alex asks, swinging the baby off the examination table and making her giggle. "Miss Zola wants to go home."

"Me too." she says involuntarily, regretting it when Naomi shoots her a look.

"You deliver babies." Ali states, darting through the door and pinning her with her gaze.

"Yeah." she says slowly.

"Come with me." Ali barks, dragging her along the corridor. "There's a mother in active labor, but the baby's transverse and I can't get it to -"

"I thought you had an OB here?"

"She's not working today and I couldn't get a call through to her - I've sent someone to her house but she'll be twenty minutes at least. That woman doesn't have twenty minutes."

"Typical." she mutters.

"What'd you say?"

"Gown." she sighs. "And gloves, please."

..

The gown turns out to be an open backed apron made of some slick waterproof material that ties with long strings, but at least it manages to cober her front. It's slightly damp from the last time it was cleaned and reeks of disinfectant, and the gloves she snaps on leave powdery residue on her hands. She'd forgotten that about this place.

She hasn't forgotten that they used to have an ultrasound and a fetal doppler.

"Doppler died about a month ago, the new one isn't here yet." Ali says. "Have a go with the ultrasound."

The woman lets put a weak whimper, and Ali turns her attention, wiping a damp cloth over her sweating forehead.

"I need to know if the baby's in distress, she might need a C section but I don't want to do it if she can deliver -"

"I suggest you find out really fast." Ali says.

"Well, she's a ray of sunshine." Alex remarks. "I'm gonna have fun working with her."

"Where's the baby?" Naomi asks.

"Someone's giving her a bath and packing her stuff." Alex replies. "That's the first time I've seen Montgomery not know what to do."

"Shut up." she mutters. "Give me that."

"What is that?" Naomi asks, confused. "Bike horn?"

"A Pinard horn." Alex says, awed. "Didn't think anyone actually used those."

"They're pretty common in Europe, a fact you would be aware of if you weren't -" Ali begins.

"Get over here and find the heartbeat." she orders Ali. "Nae, take over nurse duty, Alex, go find her husband."

"He is outside, vomiting." Ali says solemnly. "Let him stay where he is, or you'll be cleaning the floor."

"Then get ready for this baby, because it's coming out." she says to Alex. "All right, how much O neg do we have on hand?"

"Are you O negative?" Ali asks.

"No, why...oh." she realises. "No blood, we have no blood and she's already lost -"

"She's bleeding, do something fast." Naomi squeaks.

"I don't want to cut, she may need blood." she mumbles. "The baby's definitely transverse. Okay- Ali, get over here and hold her hand."

"I'm not a nurse!"

"This is going to hurt like a bitch and I don't speak her language, so get over yourself and do as I say." she snaps.

"What's gonna hurt like a bitch?" she demands.

"She's doing an internal podalic." Naomi breathes. "Oh, god, when was the last time you actually did one on a patient?"

"I think it was when was...a resident?"

"Last century, then." Ali groans. "Great. I won't translate that bit, then."

"What does that involve, exactly?" Alex asks nervously.

"She's going to grab the baby's foot and turn it so she can deliver breech." Naomi explains.

"Better you than me." Alex shrugs.

"Hold her other hand." she instructs Alex. "Nae, grab whatever we need for the cord. I'm going in."

There's a moment where she can't hear herself think, because all she can hear are the woman's screams ringing in her ears amd bouncing off the inside of her skull, but she closes her eyes and goes by feel, which makes it easy to make out the tiny foot with her fingers, and then it just takes seconds to push down the head amd pull the foot, until it's engaged.

"Okay, ask her to push." she tells Ali, who looks like she's trying not to be impressed.

Ali croons something to the woman, who shakes her head.

"She has to push or the baby isn't going to make it." she says to Ali. "This much blood -"

"I can't find a heartbeat." Alex yelps, clutching the horn.

"The baby's rotated, genius, you're on its ass." Nae hisses. "Move."

"Weak but steady." she announces in a moment.

"Get her to push!"

"You try!"

"She's pushing!" Alex bellows.

"I got it." she calls out, unable to stop a laugh as she gets a grip on the baby's feet. "Okay, one more -"

The woman lets out a long stream of what she assumes to be either names of deities or curse words, but she bears down and she's able to fully deliver the tiny little baby boy.

"Tell her it's a boy." she calls out. "He's beautiful."

"He isn't crying." Alex says.

"Well, do something about it." she suggests.

* * *

"Where are you going?" she asks. She hadn't expected anyone to be awake at this hour, which is why she chose it to sneak out for a walk.

"Archer wants to talk about my mother's case." he says warily. "This is the only time he's free all day."

"Oh." she says. "In...his office?"

"Yeah, he has her scans and everything...Meredith, I'm sorry." he says softly, moving closer so he's all she can see. "Last night. I was angry, you were angry -"

"It's fine."

"No, it isn't." he says, eyebrows knitting together. "I-"

"Do you _want_ me to be mad at you?"

"Of course not."

"Then stop talking."

He stares at her for a minute, his eyes softening. "All right. I just got an email from Addison, they're leaving in a few hours."

"We're going to see our baby?" she gasps. "Oh my god, Derek, she's coming home!"

"I'll thank you not to wake my baby." Archer grumbles, lurching down the stairs behind them.

"How is it that you have the worst timing in the world." Derek groans.

"I truly regret all the times I've walked in on you and my sister." Archer says. "It's not my fault you decide to get all -"

"I'll come." she says suddenly, slipping her arm through Derek's. "If you don't mind."

"Of course not." he smiles, kissing her ear.

"None of that in my office." Archer warns.

..

"So as you can see, her case is far enough advanced that -"

"But she's still functionally independent." he points out. "The dementia hasn't progressed enough to -"

"Derek, she believes her husband isn't here because he's at work." Archer says quietly. "She thinks you're never around because you're at the hospital, she thinks Amy's never here because she's in med school. Nancy says she's been forgetting to eat, she isn't sleeping -"

"No one said anything to me." Derek says.

"Nancy said she was going to call you in a few weeks." Archer says gently. "These are decisions you need to make together."

"What...decisions?" Derek asks.

There's a beat of silence, which she fills in.

"They're thinking of a home, aren't they?" she addresses Archer.

"They think it's time."

"Talk to your sisters." Archer glares at him. "It's about time for that, too."

* * *

"Wake up, sleepyhead." he teases, tugging at a wavy red strand escaping her blanket tent. "Rise and shine."

"I don't wanna be shiny." she howls. "Go away."

"Huh. I made birthday waffles, but I guess I'll just have to eat them by myself."

"I don't want waffles." she hisses.

"There's also a very pretty dress waiting for the birthday girl." he says.

"I don't want my dress, I want Mommy." she whispers tremulously.

"Baby, I know." he soothes. "She'll be here by tonight."

"But my birthday is _today_." she replies, teary. "It's today and Mommy said she would come."

"You know she had to go help Zola -"

She bursts into tears, so he bundles her into his arms, duvet and all. "Let it all out, kid."

"She's _my_ mommy!" she hiccups. "Not Zola's. Zola already gets Derek all the time, it's not fair!"

"Honey, she's your mother, and she's coming back." he says gently. "She loves you, and so does Derek."

"But he lives all the way in Seattle four million miles away, and we don't ever see him." she whimpers. "And me and Mommy and you live here."

"We'll find a way for you to see Derek." he says confidently. "And your mother would hate for you to cry on your birthday."

She sits upright, sniffling. He offers her a tissue from the box beside the bed. "All out?"

"No." she says, screwing up her face. "I want to wear my dress."

"Well, that's easy," he laughs. "Get up out of bed and I'll help you."

"You can't do hair." she scowls. "Mommy always does my hair."

This is true. Addison spoils the kid with these fancy complicated braid things that he can't seem to replicate no matter how skilled and dexterous his fingers. He assumes a similarly complicated style has been planned for today.

"No, I can't." he agrees. "But I know who might be able to."

"Not Uncle Archer, he can't even do a ponytail." she shudders. "Mommy says that's why he's not a surgeon."

"True." he agrees. "But Meredith might."

"But Meredith is sad, because she's waiting for Zola." she reminds him.

"But Zola will be here tonight." he counters. "And I bet Meredith would do it anyway."

"Do we have enough goodie bags?" she asks anxiously. "Do we have one for Zola?"

"We'll make one." he assures her. "Sit tight while I get Meredith, okay?"

* * *

"He's good." Ali says grudgingly, watching Alex wheel the incubator away, rattling off orders to the nurse. "I did not think that baby had a chance."

"Baby?" someone pants behind them. "You delivered it, it's all right?"

She turns around to see a woman bent over in the doorway, hands on knees, breathing hard.

"Dr. Lucy Fields. Our OB." Ali states. "Go home again, Lucy, show is over."

"Who're you?" Lucy asks.

"This is Dr. Montgomery, and Dr. Bennett." Ali introduces them. "From LA."

"We're getting new doctors?" Lucy asks excitedly.

"Just one." Ali shrugs. "From Seattle. Dr. -"

"Holy crap." Lucy mutters.

"No, Alex. Alex Karev." Ali says, baffled. "His name is not -"

"What are you doimg here?" Alex laughs.

"I work here." Lucy snorts. "Part time."

"Well, so do I. Full time."

"Anyone care to explain?" Naomi demands.

"This," Alex jerks his thumb at Lucy. "Is the shark who stole the Africa job from me earlier. Karma is a bitch, eh, Lucy?"

"I think we're going to have fun together." Lucy smirks.

"I think she is being...how do you say, sarcastic?" Ali says worriedly.

"She is." Alex agrees.

"Zola is ready to go." a nurse says, peeking through the door at them. "Shall I bring her?"

* * *

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